From Where the Sun Now Stands
by thestarkswillendure
Summary: Victoria Brennan is a young lady from the North coming down to live in Charleston, South Carolina with her father, Christopher Howard, during the American Civil War, after her mother's death. Here, she meets Ben Blue, a Sewee Indian fighting on the side of the Confederacy.
1. Chapter 1

_**Chapter 1**_

The carriage rumbled over the gravel road and sunlight shined through the sparse leaves on the trees. A warm spring breeze ruffled the leaves and inside the carriage, Victoria stirred. She smoothed a hand over her dress, spine straightening with every minute that passed by. She hadn't even stepped out the carriage and already the South seemed so different from Massachusetts. She could almost feel herself being caged in, restricted by archaic laws and customs.

Massachusetts had it's own problems of course but Charleston, South Carolina was about the worst place in the country to be in at the moment. Almost 5 months ago, the state had been the first to secede from the Union and now the country was at war with itself.

Outside she could hear the soft neighing of the horses, their rhythmic footfalls on the dirt road. Safe passage from the North to the South was hard to acquire in these troublesome times but Victoria's father, Christopher Howard, a scientist, was very influential and while he wasn't rich per se, he lived comfortably enough.

Victoria had never met her father before today, she'd never had a reason to. Growing up with a single mother wasn't easy, women didn't have many opportunities work-wise so money was scarce but she'd had a good childhood, full of love and happy memories. When her mother had fallen sick with tuberculosis, she'd sat Tory down beside her and had told her about her father. Soon after her mother's death, Victoria was heading off to the South to live with a man she'd never met.

The carriage slowed to a stop before a great white two-story plantation home. Out front, a beautiful blonde woman waited, looking for all the world an honest to god Southern belle. Behind her, wearing dresses far more modest and simple, stood an Asian woman and an older lady with a pinched look on her face. Gathering her skirts, Victoria stepped down from the carriage, tilting her head to keep the blinding Carolinian sun off her eyes.

"Victoria, welcome! You must be exhausted. Your father is in a meeting at the moment but please, come in. This is your home now too," the blonde greeted, gleaming blue eyes and a perfect smile focusing themselves on Tory.

"I'm Whitney, your father's wife," she smiled, as if this was some great feat.

Tory blinked back at her dumbly, her mind struggling to understand Whitney's words. She knew from her mother that her father was just as new to the idea of a daughter as she was to the idea of a father but she'd never thought there would be another woman in the equation. Dazed, Tory let Whitney pull her inside, letting her ramble on and on about how much she'd love the South, how they just _had_ to have a debutante ball to introduce her to all the eligible bachelors and how fun it would be to have a daughter.

Her mother's last words came to her in a flash.

 _I will always be with you, Victoria. Even long after I'm gone._

Tory snatched her hand from Whitney's and whirled, her words belying the maelstrom of emotions howling away inside her, "You are not my mother and you never will be".

Whitney fell silent, her face twisting with something resembling sorrow. It was a fleeting expression, disappearing as quickly as it had manifested but something about it struck Tory oddly. After a moment of silence, the Asian woman shuffled forward, eyes flicking towards Whitney worriedly.

"Let me show you to your room, Miss".

Tory tore her eyes from the shuttered expression on Whitney's face and grabbing her suitcase, she turned, following the woman up the grand curving staircase.

Her room was big and airy, larger than the main living area in her Massachusetts home. White curtains billowed in with the wind from the open windows, sweeping over the large oak bed that dominated the northern wall, shadowed by two bedside tables on either side. In front of the windows, a rocking chair looked out onto the garden and across from the bed stood a vanity table, it's surface filled with glass fragrances and powders. To the right of the doorway, on the western wall was a wardrobe. Tory startled when her suitcase was grabbed from her hand, the petite woman setting it on the bed.

"What's your name?" Tory asked, self-consciously tugging at her red hair. She felt so out of place here. She'd never had a maid or a waiting lady.

"Lorelei, miss," the woman-Lorelei- responded.

"That's a beautiful name, Lorelei. You may go and please don't call me Miss," Tory smiled warmly. Lorelei nodded and went scurrying out the door. Sighing, Tory went to unpack her belongings. She missed Massachusetts already.

* * *

Two weeks had passed since Tory had arrived in Charleston, South Carolina. Two weeks full of sweltering heat, boring afternoons and awkward dinners with Whitney and her father. Her father rarely surfaced from his workshop and so Tory was left in the capable hands of Whitney, who's main priority seemed to be marrying Tory off to the richest, most handsome bachelor in Charleston as quickly as possible. That and transforming her into a " _proper Southern lady_ ".

Tory was ready to scream.

It was on one of these days, when Tory had skipped out on one of Whitney's "lady lessons" with the help of Shelton, Lorelei's son, that she found Cooper. The first time Tory had met Shelton and his father, she had blanched at the thought that her father owned slaves. She had met many freed men in the North but she'd assumed that most, if not all, blacks down in the South were slaves. That's what everyone in the North had grown up believing.

Upon that assumption, she had stormed down into her father's workshop, demanding that he free them immediately. Her father had looked at her startled, as if only just remembering the fact that he had a daughter, before he'd burst into laughter. Tory, filled with indignation, had only glared at him until he'd choked out that the Devers were family friends and Lorelei's husband and son. Needless to say, Tory was glad to learn that her father didn't own any slaves. Slavery was cruel and immoral and while she may have needed to conform to Southern living, she wasn't about to start condoning the enslavement of people.

After that particular episode, Tory had learned that Lorelei and her family along with Ruth's (the strict-looking woman that seemed to shadow Whitney everywhere) husband and son, Hiram, shared the small colonial house down the road. Shelton and Hiram were both a year older than Tory but they managed to get along quite well. Tory liked spending time with them, both for their company and the chance it allowed her to see Whitney pale as she imagined the horrible conclusions someone might come to when confronted with a young lady whose only companions seemed to be males.

The woods surrounding the house were an explosion of color; vibrant hues of red, pink, yellow and green. Everywhere she looked, there were wildflowers and apple trees and cherry blossoms. She could hear the bauble of a stream nearby, the melodious chirping of the birds. Farther down the path was a clearing Tory had found, marked by a large oddly-shaped boulder. It had become her secret place, quiet and peaceful, a bubble separating her from the outside world.

Today however, as Tory settled on the boulder in the clearing with her sketchbook, the usual euphonious melody of chirping birds and babbling stream water was broken by the pained howling of an animal. Alarmed, Tory put her sketchbook down, looking around the clearing cautiously before tentatively stepping in the direction of the pained whimpers.

It was a dog, more of a wolf really, its paw caught in a hunting trap. The wolf-dog whimpered as it watched her near, the fur around its paw streaked with blood. She approached it slowly, kneeling down by the wolf, hands petting it's soft fur.

"Hello. I'm going to get you out of this, okay. I'll be back in a few minutes," she soothed, smoothing the fur on the wolf-dog's head. It whined at her, big pained eyes looking up at her. Picking up her skirts, Tory ran back down the path to the house, picking up her sketchbook on the way.

She flew in through the kitchen backdoor, startling Whitney and Ruth who were sipping tea at the counter.

"Now, where in hell's blazes have y- that dress is not for running in, young lady! Victoria!"

Ignoring Whitney's screeches, Tory pounded her way down the stone steps that led into her father's workshop. She slowed to a stop before Kit who blinked up at her like a man who's seen the sun for the very first time.

"There's a dog with it's paw caught in a bear trap," her words fly out in a rush, breathless and ragged. Kit stared at her for a second before he turned and came up holding some big metal tweezer-thing.

"Lead the way, little Red," he grinned. Tory huffs at the nickname but lets it go, choosing to stomp up the stairs, past Whitney who is hovering nervously near the entrance, never quite daring enough to go down into the basement. When they arrive at the clearing, the wolf-dog is howling miserably again. At the sight of Tory, it quietens, eyes following the tool in Kit's hands suspiciously.

"Hey there, boy. Don't be afraid. We'll get this right off," she spoke calmly, kneeling down once again beside the furry animal. She hugged the wolf-dog to her chest, wincing as she got a closer sight of the wound. Gently, Kit pried the trap open and Tory tugged the paw gently away from the metal jaws. The wolf-dog, who had been whimpering in pain just a moment ago, yips suddenly, licking at her face. Tory laughs brightly and looks up to find Kit smiling at her.

"Can I keep him?"

He looked at her dubiously, not for a second taking seriously the innocent smile on Tory's face. Beside her, the wolf-dog whimpered, looking at Kit with big wolf puppy eyes. His eyes flickered between the two of them for a few seconds before finally sighing.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath about Whitney freaking out. Tory grinned, lunging over the top of the wolf-dog's head to hug Kit. With an arm around her dad, she turned to the wolf-dog who only cocked his head at them.

"I'm gonna name you Coop".

* * *

Note: Hello! So I'm a huge history nerd and the historical richness of a place like Charleston, South Caroline (in addition to Ben's Native American heritage) really pushed me into writing this fic. I hope you guys enjoy it. Until next time!


	2. Chapter 2

**_Chapter 2_**

There is someone in her room.

She can hear their rattling, wheezing breaths, every so often interrupted by wet hacking coughs that raise the hairs on her arm. She's heard these sounds before, she thinks. Sunken eyes staring out of a gaunt face, skin too hot to touch yet shivering with the intensity of a person slowly freezing to death. She doesn't remember her half the time, so loopy with medicinal herbs. The doctors say there isn't anything more they can do, the disease has taken grip.

Tory is scared to look behind her, fearing what she'll see. She squeezes her eyes shut and tries to ignore the wheezing breaths that warm the back of her neck. She thinks of Whitney and Kit, sleeping peacefully down the hall, Shelton and Hi, down the road with their families. Coop, at the foot of her bed, snuffling in his sleep, unaware of the ghostly presence in the room.

"Tory…," her voice is the same raspy whisper she'd acquired by the end of her sickness.

 _She's not real_ , Tory thinks.

The wheezing breaths come closer and now, Tory can smell the putrid scent of death at her back. All down her arm, her hairs stand on end. Tory turns and she screams.

Its her mother. Her rotting corpse lies on the bed next to Tory, as sickly and emaciated as she'd been in her final few days. Tory wakes in bed, screaming and drenched in sweat. Her heart is racing, the fear a familiar lump lodging itself in her throat. She clutches desperately at her nightgown, searching for blood that is not there left by hands that no longer exist.

At the foot of the bed, Cooper whines quietly as he wakes, padding up the length of the bed and curling up at her side. Tory pats the wolf-dog's fur desperately, curling herself around the furry warmth, searching for anything to tether her to reality. Tory can't remember the last time she cried but now, she does. Stifling, dry sobs that are muffled by Cooper's fur.

She didn't think she'd ever been so lonely.

* * *

The next morning Whitney takes her into town, determined to find a dress for Tory's debutante ball. Tory, sleep deprived and pasty white, feels sick at the prospect of getting out of bed, never mind going into town and yet she finds herself listening to Whitney's chatter only an hour later as they ride into town. She's harping on and on about which color would best highlight Tory's complexion and normally Tory would argue but now, she is silent, watching the lively people of Charleston as they pass by.

There are Confederate soldiers crawling all over the town area and it's startling to see gray uniforms instead of deep navy blue. Southern belles with wide skirts and frilly parasols stroll by, many on the arms of a soldier.

 _At least some things never change,_ Tory thinks grudgingly.

"Victoria, darling, come along. We're going to be awfully late for our appointment and Miss Francis is an awfully busy woman. She's the best seamstress in all of Charleston," Whitney beckons as they roll to a stop and step down from the carriage.

Inside, Miss Francis pokes and prods her with needles, tightening the laces on each dress Tory tries on until Tory can't breathe and the little breast she has feels like it'll going to spill over the front of the dress. She wants nothing more than to scream but screaming would require the ability to suck in air. In her breathless daze, Tory can't really remember anything she tries on but she does remember Whitney clapping her hand over her mouth, her eyes welling up at a particular dress.

Mrs. Francis leaves the room, taking the dress with her and Whitney pounces, grabbing onto Tory's hand and almost vibrating with joy.

"Oh! You'll look beautiful, Victoria. Those boys won't be able to keep their eyes off you. Oh, when you see that Claybourne boy, you'll just die. Or perhaps, the Taylor boy. His family is quite influential as well and he's just as charming. Oh, I can already see it!"

Whitney, Tory is coming to find, is like a child, all innocence and hyperactive. Hate it as she might to admit it, Whitney would be a good mother and she wonders then why Kit and her haven't had any children given they've been together so long.

"Whitney, can I ask you something?"

Whitney blinks at her, dumbfounded at the sincerity in Tory's voice. Her blue eyes widen ever so slightly, hands falling to her sides as she steps back.

"Of course. What is it?"

"Why haven't you and Kit had kids yet?"

A sharp intake of breath.

Whitney holds a hand to her belly, her eyes glistening wetly with unshed tears. She struggles to speak, mouth opening and closing as she tries to find the words.

"I… I can never have children," she whispers and at last, the tears spill over and down her face.

She turns away, wiping at her face brusquely. With shaky words, she excuses herself.

"I'll be in the carriage if you need me."

The carriage ride home is silent and tense, a rubber band that stretches and stretches and threatens to snap back at you. When the house comes into view, Whitney throws open the door before they've even come to a stop and disappears inside.

Dinner that night is a lonely affair, only Tory sitting at the large oak table. As she passes Whitney and Kit's door that night, she hears Whitney crying and the soft murmur of Kit's voice, words lost in the wood. The sobbing is a heartbreaking lament and Tory feels something in her soften because she knows. She knows what a broken heart sounds like.

Her heart aches for Whitney, whose kind and patient despite all the horrible things Tory has said to her in these past weeks. She can't imagine what it must be like to know that you can never have children. Never feel the small and reassuring weight of your infant cradled in your arms, never see your own eyes looking up at you or watch your own nose scrunch up.

She rests her palm against the smooth dark oak, saying goodbye to the images of children that never existed and a future that will never exist.

Goodbye to the woman that sang her to sleep.

* * *

NOTE: Hello! So sorry to post so late, been busy with SATs and AP exams. So I really love Whitney standing up for Tory in Terminal and I wanted to build their relationship in this fic because it made me happy reading that scene. Until next time!


	3. Chapter 3

**_Chapter 3_**

Tory doesn't recognize the girl in the mirror. She looks like Tory, older and more beautiful than Tory ever thought she could be, yet something in her is unfamiliar. Perhaps, it's the way her green eyes seem sad and weary. She looks so tired that it hurts her to look at their reflection. She looks away from the eyes and focuses on the shimmery ivory dress.

Its simple yet elegant. A wide skirt with layered ruffles, a fitting bodice with a slightly dipping neckline and beautiful lace sleeves. At her neck, a simple locket hangs, the only part of her outfit that speaks of another Tory than the one who stands before the mirror. One with a mother and a life in the North. Her auburn hair is pinned up at the nape and little tendrils curl at her neck and cheek. The ensemble reminds Tory of a bride on her wedding day and she wonders if tonight, she will meet the man she will one day marry. She touches the locket and a lump builds in her throat, tears welling in her eyes as she thinks of her mother who will never get to see her like this, walking down the aisle of a church.

With a shuddering breath and a blink that clears the tears, Tory fortifies herself for the night to come. She glances at the sad green eyes once more and gathers her skirts. In a miraculous turn of events, she doesn't trip and tumble down the stairs. Instead, her graceful descent garners the eye of every person in the room, ladies in colorful dresses with wide skirts and men in uniforms alike. Unnerved, she brings her eyes to the foot of the stairs where Kit is fidgeting and Whitney is fussing over his clothes. The scene brings a smile to Tory's face, one that grows wider when she spies Shelton and Hiram waiting beside them. At the bottom, she loops her arms through the arm of each boy and grins.

When she turns to face Kit and Whitney, Kit is staring at her perplexed. He looks sad in a way but proud.

"You look so much like your mother," he says, eyes suspiciously wet. She swallows around the lump in her throat and smiles kindly at him. At his side, Whitney stares at the floor.

Things between Whitney and her had always been a bit strained but ever since the carriage ride when Whitney had told her she couldn't have kids, Whitney had become a ghost in the presence of Tory. If Tory entered the kitchen and she was drinking tea with Lorelei or Ruth, she disappeared up the stairs or out into the garden.

Tory can see Kit now, looking at her pleadingly. Sometimes Tory felt bad for him, having to deal with the perpetually clashing personalities of the woman he loved and the daughter he never knew he had. At first, he'd tried to keep the peace between them but these days, he seemed more inclined to push for Tory's kindness towards Whitney.

"The dress is beautiful, Whitney. Thank you," Tory sighs. Whitney glances up at her, blue eyes searching for something they do not seem to find. The moment is broken by the arrival of two women who curtsy at Kit and Whitney. Their meaningless compliments are swallowed in the low hum of the crowd as Tory turns away with Shelton and Hi at her side.

As they move through the crowd, Shelton and Hi pointing out certain people throughout the room, Tory is struck by the thought of how influential Kit must be to have connections with the elite of South Carolina. She catches the eyes of many as they tour the room, judging silently, both her and her escorts. Eventually, Shelton and Hiram abandon her to the wolves in favor of seeking food and she finds herself standing awkwardly at the edge of the crowd, aware of all the eyes on her.

She watches Whitney for a while as she flutters from person to person, greeting everyone with her 1000 watt smile and batting her baby blues. She finds herself morbidly curious about the way the other women eye Whitney enviously, with hate in their eyes, the way the men drink in her beauty hungrily. It occurs to Tory, watching how they smile placatingly at Whitney as if humoring a child, that perhaps Whitney is as lonely as her.

The thought is fleeting, disappearing when a tall beautiful dark-haired girl comes to stand beside her, sipping at the drink in her hand.

"Do you have any idea how many boys have done and fallen in love with you tonight?"

"Excuse me?"

Tory turns and the girl grins at her lasciviously, blinking long dark lashes at her. She curtsies at Tory almost mockingly.

"Ella Francis. You must be Victoria Brennan."

Ella Francis is stunning to say the least, long black hair and smoldering dark eyes outlined by sweeping black lashes. Her bodice hugs at her curves and the rich blue material gleams vibrantly in the light. Tory feels self-conscious just standing next to her.

"I am. You're the Francis' daughter?"

Tory watches as Ella waves forward someone in the crowd. The boy who steps forward seems to be about their age but his gray uniform makes him seem older.

 _He's gorgeous_ , she thinks. Blonde hair, blue eyes, muscular even through the uniform. He reminds Tory of the Norse gods her mother used to tell her about.

"Victoria, meet Jason Taylor. He's been dying to meet you all night, you should dance with him," Ella smiles, winking at her. Tory feels the blood that rushes to color her cheeks. She stutters out a 'yes' when Jason asks her to dance, shooting Ella dark looks over her shoulder.

Tory can feel herself blushing all throughout the dance, sensing all the eyes on her and Jason including Whitney who seems increasingly pleased. She steps on Jason a few times, mumbling apologies and stuttering through a 'thank you' when he tells her she looks beautiful. Tory can't remember ever feeling so frazzled around a boy, they certainly don't make them like this in the North, but the feeling is nothing compared to the panic she gets when meeting Chance Claybourne.

After her dance with Jason, she returns to Ella, spitting vitriol at her. Ella just laughs and responds, "I think we'll get along quite well, Victoria".

Later on, Whitney comes and steals her away from Ella and her crowd of admirers. The man they stop in front of is so beautiful, Tory forgets to breathe for a second. If Jason Taylor was a Norse god with his blonde hair and blue eyes, Chance Claybourne was the dark night to his day. Dark hair and dark eyes, a chiseled jaw and high cheekbones. Tory could feel herself sweating.

When he kisses the back of her hand, Tory thinks she's died and gone to heaven. Whitney looks particularly smug and Tory can almost see Ella's wicked grin in her mind. She curtsies clumsily at Chance and watches as he excuses himself to go conduct some business with her father. Tory feels intoxicated when she moves away from Whitney, her blood singing inside her veins, bubbling like the champagne that sparkles in Whitney's glass. The noise in the room becomes a buzz in her ears and she needs to get out. She escapes through the kitchen backdoor into the garden, careful not to tear the dress lest Whitney kill her.

She unchains Coop from where Kit tied him up after Whitney demanded he be tied up for the duration of the party. As soon as she unchains him, he shoots into the woods, howling and yipping. Tory calls after him, gathering her skirts off the floor and stepping carefully as she follows the wolf-dog. Moonlight floods the clearing and the wind rustles the leaves on the trees, the August night humid and sticky on her skin. Tory feels a chill go down her spine, the hairs on her arm standing on end as the bushes around her rustle ominously.

A low growl pierces the night and from the bushes, a full grown wolf steps out, teeth bared at Tory. Three things happen at once.

The wolf lunges at Tory.

Cooper jumps between Tory and the wolf.

A man steps out of the woods.

* * *

NOTE: Thank you all for the reviews! And special thank you to Heslen and the guest who pointed out the inconsistencies, I've since fixed them. Also shoutout to kaitgirl for being a fellow Darkest Powers fangirl! Until next time.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter 4**_

The fear that crystallizes itself into her heart feels sharp and painful, bringing everything into focus. Tory can feel the way her heartbeat quickens, the cold sweat that breaks out all over her body, the lump in her throat that keeps her from screaming bloody murder. Everything seems to happen in slow motion. She watches as Cooper plants himself between her and the wolf, baring his teeth. How the man kneels down and calls to the wolf. The wolf in question tumbles into Coop by pure momentum and they continue rolling, nipping at each other's flanks. It's affectionate and playful, not the fierce bloody fight she was expecting and Tory relaxes minimally until she remembers the man and instantly stiffens once again.

Seizing a thick branch off the floor, Tory whirls on the man. Now that she isn't looking at him from the corner of her eye, she sees the long black hair that brushes against smooth sun-browned skin, the equally dark eyes that pin her with their gaze, the strong jawline that clenches with discomfort. His clothes are brown and sullied but obviously made of animal skin, judging by the appearance. If Tory weren't so terrified right now, she'd marvel at the fact that this was an actual Indian (1).

The man raises his hands placidly, slowly rising to his feet.

"I mean no harm," he says slowly, eyes sweeping her figure.

"Who are you? What are you doing on my father's land?" Tory demands, gripping the branch tighter, feeling the wood press into her skin.

"This land ours long before your father was born," he replies and Tory feels herself flush in embarrassment. Refusing to be intimidated, she stands her ground and steps closer to the man, jabbing the end of the branch at the air before him.

"That doesn't answer my question. Who. Are. You?"

She glares at him when he grins at her, white teeth glimmering in the moonlight.

"You have warrior's spirit in you".

Tory sucks in a breath and jabs the branch at his chest.

"I am Ben 'Rides the Sea' Blue," he says proudly, puffing out his chest and Tory can't help but think it's a bit endearing that he's proud of his dual heritage. At least, she surmises he comes from mixed parentage due to the mixture of Indian and American names. "He is your wolf, yes?"

Tory turns her head to look at Cooper, who is happily licking at the other wolf's face. She looks back at the man -Ben, she reminds herself- who is staring at her. Suddenly feeling silly, Tory nods and drops the branch, dusting her hands off. She's staring at the ground, feeling sheepish, when his hands touch a curling tendril of hair. She startles, staring up at him slack-jawed as he continues to finger the curl.

"Your hair is fire-kissed," he breathes, as if that explains why he's suddenly touching her, a stranger. Dark eyes flicker to her green ones and Tory can hardly breathe as he tucks the curl behind her ear. He watches her curiously for a second and Tory can't quite place the expression on his face but she feels a thrill run through her body.

 _It's just the wind,_ she thinks. He looks away from her to the wolf and whistles. The wolf's ear flick back from where its curled up with Cooper and with a silent grace, it rises and comes trotting to his side as Coop comes to stand by hers. She leans down and pets the wolf-dog behind the ear, something to steady herself after such a strange encounter.

"Whisper is mother to your wolf," Ben explains, kneeling to pet Whisper. Whisper looks at Tory innocently as if she didn't just try to maul her. Her eyes seem to judge Tory and as if somewhat approving of the woman who saved her pup, she bows her head and licks at Tory's offered palm.

"His name is Cooper. I saved him from a hunter's trap," Tory responds, feeling as if this whole encounter is something from a dream. It feels surreal. Ben's lips curl into something resembling disgust.

"White men and their traps," he mutters darkly and Tory struggles not to feel offended. She wonders if he finds her ignorant as well, claiming this is her father's land when his people have been here for centuries. She stares down at the ground, continuing to pet Coop's head gently when she hears shouting from the direction of the house. It sounds like Lorelei who, despite Tory's pleas to call her by her nickname, insists on the "appropriate title and name" 'Miss Victoria'.

Despite her initial shyness, Lorelei is actually quite assertive but Tory doesn't mind. Sometimes when she brushes her hair, Lorelei tells her of her home in Japan, voice wistful and melancholic. It makes Tory think of her own home back in Massachusetts.

Cooper shoots out from under Tory's hand, nuzzling once at Whisper before he runs off in the direction of the house. Tory turns to go when she feels a warm, calloused hand grasp hers. Ben is staring at her, dark eyes unreadable.

"I did not get your name," he says. Tory feels herself flush and is grateful for the cover the dark night lends her.

"Victoria. Victoria Brennan," she says and then she walks away. When she sneaks a peek back, he's still staring at her.

* * *

Two days later, Tory is sitting on the porch sketching when she hears the rattling of a carriage coming down the road. Kit had said they'd be having visitors today. She glances over her shoulder where sure enough, a military-issue carriage is rounding the bend. Tory has learned to recognize them by now, so often as they are outside her house. She can see Shelton and Hi in the distance, stepping out of their house to watch it pass by. She sweeps up her sketchbook and pencils, heading inside to alert Whitney and Kit.

Whitney is in the kitchen, helping Ruth prepare lunch when Tory comes in. Tory opens the door to the cellar, where she can hear Kit stumbling around.

"Kit, your guests are here," she calls down. Behind her, Whitney tuts at her 'unladylike behavior'. When Kit emerges from the cellar, hair standing on ends and face smudged with grease, Whitney freaks. Immediately, she starts wiping at his face with a handkerchief, smoothing his hair and scolding him. Kit has enough sense to look sheepish and Tory laughs to herself, behind the cover of her hand. From the corner of her eye, she sees Ruth smile, shaking her head ruefully. Lorelei comes into the kitchen, smoothing a hand over her red dress.

"Your guests are waiting in the living room, Miss Whitney," she says quietly. Whitney smiles at her, thanking Lorelei as she breezes past her. She bows her head when Kit passes her, mumbling to himself about god knows what.

"You look lovely today, Lorelei. How is Nelson? Shelton told me he was feeling a bit under the weather," Tory asks, stopping before the woman. Lorelei huffs a strand of hair out of her face as come to stand next to Ruth.

"Oh, I'll bet he's feeling under the weather. I'm going to hide all the liquor, I swear to you, I will," she scowls, stomping around the kitchen as she readies to prepare some tea. Ruth laughs and launches into a story about some person in town with a terrible drinking problem. Tory, amused at how much they gossip, turns and moves into the living room where Kit, Whitney and two men have settled.

The men stand when she enters and almost immediately, she curtsies. The first man, Kit introduces as Colonel Montgomery Dent Corse of the 17th Virginia Infantry (2). He is a short, balding, mustached man and Tory has to stop herself from laughing when the idle thought crosses her head that his head looks like an egg drawn on.

The second man…

He's tall, dark in coloring, hair cropped short. The gray uniform is a startling change from the animal skins and the short hair is a fair cry from the long hair he had but despite all that, it's him. Tory could never forget those dark eyes. The man from the woods.

"This is Private Benjamin Blue".

Dark eyes fastened on hers, he bows and kisses her hand.

* * *

NOTE: Hello lovelies! Thank you for the reviews! Some historical background for you all.

(1) The term "Native American" did not come into use until the 1960s when people began to challenge the use of the term "Indian" as a misnomer and a racial slur. However, many indigenous groups have since reclaimed the word and do prefer it to Native American.

(2) About 29,000 Native Americans fought on either side of the Civil War. On the Confederacy, we had the Cherokee, Seminole, Chickasaw, Choctaw, Creek and Catawba tribes. By this time, the Sewee tribe had long been integrated into the Catawba as they'd first merged after the Yamasee War of 1715. In 1701, there was said to only be one Sewee village remaining with a population of 57, the rest of the tribe severely decimated by smallpox and alcoholism. All Catawba males served in the 5th, 12th and 17th Infantry of the Army of North Virginia (the main military force of the Confederacy). Colonel Montgomery Dent Corse was the actual commander of the 17th Virginia Infantry during this time period.

Until next time.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Chapter 5_**

"Tory, why don't you show the private around while your father and I speak to Colonel Montgomery," Whitney suggests, tone queer. Tory's eyes flicker in her direction and she can see the calculating gleam in Whitney's eyes. Tory has then, the distinct impression that Whitney sees all and if that isn't a bit terrifying, Tory doesn't know what is.

When her eyes shift back to Ben, he's holding out his arm for her. Taking his arm under Whitney's piercing stare, Tory hightails it out of the room, through the grand foyer and out the front door. Outside, she drops his arm and continues toward the garden, ever aware of his eyes on her back. At the entrance to the garden, she whirls on him.

"What are you doing here? Since when are you a soldier?"

"All men in my tribe are required to fight. Your father helps in preparing for war," he says impassively.

Tory knew Kit was some kind of advisor for the Confederate army but she didn't know how deep his role went and sometimes that scared her, not knowing if Union soldiers would one day come storming in to imprison her father for crimes against the Union. She knew the bitter sentiments of Northerners towards those in the Confederacy. How they sneered and spat their names, called them "traitors" and "turncoats" and once, Tory had heard them comparing the Southerners to those "damn Tories during the Revolution".

Fighting the shiver that threatens to shake her to the core, Tory turns her attention back to Ben, who is solemn as he examines her face. Behind him, Tory sees the running, panting shapes of Hiram and Shelton nearing. Skidding to a stop and almost knocking Ben over (which isn't exactly an easy feat), Hi kneels over panting while Shelton struggles to speak.

"What's... going... on, Tor?" he huffs breathlessly. Hi sticks up a thumb, indicating he's good. When he looks up (and up and up) at Ben, he throws Tory a quizzical look.

"Who's tall, dark and grumpy? 'Nother lover boy?" Hi grins and Tory resists the urge to smack him upside the head. Shelton beats her to it and Tory sees Ben's lips twitch up into an imperceptible smirk that vanishes as quickly as it came.

"Ow," Hi whines, glaring at Shelton. Tory rolls her eyes at their antics and chooses to answer Hi's question.

"This is Private Ben Blue from the 17th Virginia Infantry. The Colonel is speaking to my father," she explains, turning back around to lead them into the garden.

Behind her, she hears Hi and Shelton shoving each other as they stumble after her. She can't hear Ben, he's as silent as a ghost.

They sit down on the stone benches in the garden, Shelton and Hi bombarding Ben with questions about the war and the camps. Tory sits with her face turned up to the sun, listening to the deep rumble of Ben's voice.

Eventually, Lorelei tracks them down in the garden, bringing tea and biscuits with her. Shelton stands to kiss her cheek and standing next to her, Tory can see the resemblance. Lorelei slaps at Hi's hand when he reaches to sneak a biscuit off the tray and they all laugh until she shoots them dark looks. Once she's gone, Hi turns to Shelton, whispering that his mother is scary.

Tory doesn't know how long they stay in the garden but by the time Whitney comes into the garden to tell Ben the Colonel is leaving, Tory has taught the boys to play poker with Shelton's cards and Ben's face has melted from the stone-faced expression that seems to be his default expression to something relaxed and, dare she say it, happy.

As they stand to walk back to the house, Hi suddenly sticks his hand out, palm down. For the first time since Tory has known him, he looks serious.

"To new friends," he says solemnly before he cracks a grin. Tory exchanges a glance with Shelton, who shrugs and adds his hand to Hi's, echoing his statement. Tory grins and adds her hand and all eyes shift to Ben, who blinks dark eyes back at them. Tory imagines they all look like loons, grinning like this but it doesn't seem matter because Ben puts his hand on top of Tory's, smiles for the first time ever and says quietly, "To new friends".

* * *

August has long passed and September has faded into October when Tory sees Ben again. She's laying in bed, staring blankly at the white ceiling when she hears a CLINK from the window. She sits up, watching the window for a long time before she shrugs it off as her imagination. She's laying back down when she hears it again.

Shoving the covers aside, Tory swings her legs over the side of the bed and steps onto the cold floor. Shivering, she goes to stand at the window where down below, she sees a dark figure bathed in moonlight. She grabs the thickest robe she has, throwing it on over her thin nightgown. Opening the door to her room carefully, she sneaks down the hall, past Whitney and Kit's door where light seeps through the crack in the bottom. She makes it outside and rounds the corner of the house where Ben is standing, waiting.

"What are you doing here?!" she hisses, valiantly trying to keep her teeth from chattering.

"Where are Shelton and Hi?"

"Sleeping in their warm, cozy beds. Like normal people," she replied grouchily.

He starts toward their house, warm hand pulling Tory along. He seems tense and on edge and his grip on her wrist is too tight for comfort.

"Ben," she says, twisting her wrist in his grip. He continues forward.

"Ben," she repeats louder. "Ben!"

She stops in front of him, putting her hands on his chest to stop him. He's not looking at her, jaw clenched, dark eyes staring above her head into the starry night.

"Ben look at me," she pleads, hands coming up to rest on his cheeks.

"What's wrong?"

The night is silent around them, save for the howling of the wind. Tory feels the muscles under her palm shift as he clenches his jaw. When he finally looks at her, his eyes are smoldering ashes threatening to rekindle and burn everything down. Tory feels something drop in her stomach.

"Please," she whispers, voice so soft it's lost in the wind. He wraps a hand around her wrist, holding her hand to his cheek and closes his eyes. She watches the anguish on his face and then he speaks.

"They're making children fight (1). Scattering them across the troops tomorrow," he says and Tory feels the blood in her veins boil.

"How young?"

He opens his eyes and meets hers.

"Eleven."

Tory swallows thickly, letting her hands drop from his face, his hand still wrapped around her wrist. She thinks of Michael, the little boy who lived in her village back in Massachusetts, who used to follow her around like a lovesick puppy. A child still playing at knights and dragons with a stick meant to be a sword and the dog from next door. She thinks of his mom, who doted on her son so much and then she thinks of him in battle, dead on the ground, blood gurgling from his throat. This wasn't supposed to happen. Children shouldn't be fighting men's wars.

She doesn't know when they arrived at Shelton and Hi's house or when the boys came down or how they ended up in the clearing, watching Ben light a fire but there they are. The warmth from the fire is a relief and it gives the tension-filled night a welcomed softness. There is nothing to say, nothing they can change. Tory knows it, Ben knows it, Hiram and Shelton know it.

Wanting to put a stop to the macabre thoughts running through her head, Tory asks Ben for a story from his childhood, something unique to his culture. They spend the night in front of the fire, listening to stories about the grandmother spider who stole fire from the East, the warrior who seeked a white deer so he could marry the girl he loved and the Warriors of the Rainbow. Tory likes the story about Blue Jay, Bright Moon and the white deer best (and it has nothing to do with the looks Ben kept giving her while telling the story).

 _No sir, not at all_ , Tory thinks.

Tory looks around the fire at Hiram and Shelton, who have huddled together under a thick blanket, watching Ben as he tells his stories. She looks at Ben, who stares into the fire, more relaxed than he was before, voice clear and loud above the cracklings of the fire.

 _This is what it's like to have friends_ , she thinks.

* * *

NOTE: Shoutout to stormyskies73 for being my first comment on AO3 and motivating me to finish this chapter.

(1) At least 20% of all soldiers in the Civil War were younger than 18. While the Union set that as an age minimum, the Confederacy had no similar law. Johnny Clem is one of the most infamous child soldiers of the Civil War where at the battle of Shiloh, he picked up a gun and shot a Confederate colonel.

(2) The first lore I mentioned comes from the Choctaw tribe "Grandmother Spider Steals the Fire", the second is "Ghost of the White Deer" from the Chickasaw and the third is the "Warriors of the Rainbow".

One last thing to mention: time skips. They will occur frequently because I'm working alongside actual historical events.

I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. I really tried to stick true to the Morris pack dynamics and for those of you frustrated with the pace, patience. Until next time.


	6. Chapter 6

_**CHAPTER 6**_

Their voices echoed and rose, filling the cavernous room to its heights where wooden beams half hidden in the shadows crisscrossed. Serene, crystalline faces looked down upon them, forever encased in the colorful glass windows. At the front of the room, a figure impaled upon a cross looked down at them sorrowfully.

Tory sang the hymn half-heartedly, her own voice lost in the sea of voices. To her left, Whitney and Kit sang along and to her right, Ruth was shooting deadly glares at Hiram, who every few seconds heaved a great sigh of boredom. Two rows ahead, Tory could see Ella's long, dark hair trailing over her shoulder and one row in front of Ella, off to the far right, the dark locks of Chance Claybourne.

Tory wasn't particularly religious but Whitney had insisted she get out of the house and come to mass with them and admittedly, it was nice to see Ella again. Within minutes, Ella had caught her up on the town gossip even though, she knew Tory wasn't interested in all those trivialities. Tory thinks she'd said it more for Whitney's sake, who was obviously eavesdropping on the conversation; the woman didn't have a single subtle bone in her body.

A chilly December breeze swept in from the open doors at the back and Tory shivered, holding the shawl around her shoulders closed. One of the church clerks moved to the back of the room, closing the tremendous doors and almost instantly, the room warmed considerably and the echo of their euphonious melody heightened.

 _Though they are slighting Him, still He is waiting,_

 _Waiting the penitent child to receive;_

 _Plead with them earnestly, plead with them gently;_

 _He will forgive if they only believe._

Tory's nose wrinkles as an oddly familiar scent reached her nose. Sniffing the air, Tory pauses in her singing. Around her, everyone else continues to sing.

 _Down in the human heart, crushed by the tempter,_

 _Feelings lie buried that grace can restore;_

 _Touched by a loving heart, wakened by kindness,_

 _Chords that were broken will vibrate once more (1)_

Sniffing the air surreptitiously and ignoring the odd look Hi gives her, it occurs to her that it smelled like something was burning. At the front of the room, the preacher is calling people up to receive communion. Most people begin to move to the front of the room and Tory, still distracted by the smell, startles when Whitney gently pulls her along to stand in line.

The yell comes out of the blue.

"Fire! Fire!"

As one, the congregation turns to the back of the church where flames are rapidly consuming the long red velveteen curtains and licking their way up to the wooden beams in the ceiling. The air around Tory becomes complete chaos as people begin screaming and jostling each other in an attempt to escape. Tory loses Whitney in the crowd and as the flames spit and jump and spread, the air around them gets hotter.

Soon enough, the entire rear of the church is aflame and breathing itself feels like inhaling the flames.

It's pointless to shout, the air filled with so much screaming already but still, Tory screams for Whitney and Kit. For Hi and Ella and Ruth. She shoves people aside to get a better view and gets an elbow to the face for her efforts and then, someone steps on her skirts and she's tumbling face first to the floor. She covers her head as feet trample over her, whimpering when their feet finds her ribs.

Someone helps her up and Tory can only look around in a daze, vision blurred with red and the taste of blood in her mouth. Everyone is crowding the doorway at the front of the church.

A thunderous crash makes her jump and she turns to see burning beams falling from above, sending up a shower of sparks. Near the altar, someone has knocked over the candelabras and the curtains there have caught on fire. Tory's chest feels tight with fear, a tight coil that unwinds only slightly when she spots Ella. She's trying to help an injured man to his feet and Tory feels a rush of relief so fierce, it takes her breath away.

 _Or maybe that's the lack of oxygen in the room,_ she thinks as she hurries over to help Ella. Together, they get the man on his feet and Tory waves Ella ahead, looking around in desperation for Kit and Whitney.

At once, the glass stained windows implode, glass flying everywhere and the flames flare with the sudden rush of wind and oxygen. Tory feels the sting of a cut on her cheek but she can't worry about that. Near her, a beam crashes down onto the benches and the cross on the wall, falls forward, knocking over jars of oil and holy water. The flames are everywhere, pieces of the curtains fluttering through the air, setting afire everything they touch.

Through the flames, Tory sees them. Whitney and Kit and Hi. All safe and sound. Whitney and Kit are dragging Hi away from something.

 _Or someone,_ Tory thinks with a shudder. It's the last thought she has before she hears the great CRACK! of the beam overhead and everything goes dark.

 _The darkness is nice,_ she thinks. _Peaceful. If only Whitney would let her sleep._

Tory's eyelids flutter and she feels a soft warm brush on her cheek.

 _Snow,_ she thinks. _I'm in Massachusetts and it's snowing and tomorrow, the world will be blanketed in white._

She's content with that thought, not bothering to question why it feels like the air is hot and why there's screaming all around her. She opens her eyes and above her, she can see Whitney and Kit. Chance is there too, he's cradling her head in his lap and to her right, Hiram is staring blankly at the floor, Ella kneeling at his side. Tory finds that the soft little things falling from the sky are not snow flurries, its ash.

All around her, Charleston is burning. Hell has come to Earth (2).

* * *

The black dress she wears to the funeral makes her look small and pale, her green eyes dull, the bags under her eyes ugly and dark. The puckered scar that slices through her right cheek is healing now although, she's not sure if she wants the mark to disappear. It's such a different image from the girl with the beautiful ivory dress but a lot has changed since then.

When she heads down the stairs, Shelton and Hi aren't there waiting at the bottom. Whitney isn't fussing over Kit. No. The house is silent and gray, as if all the joy and color has been drained out of it.

The funeral is small. She stands tall and hugs Hiram as he cries into her neck. She can feel her heart breaking into pieces because she knows what it feels like. To lose a mother. Linus is stone-faced, eyes unblinking and unbelieving even as the casket is shut and buried. She knows that he will feel it later on.

She didn't cry at her mother's funeral, she didn't want to believe that the waxy pale figure in the coffin was her mother. It hadn't occurred to her yet that the next day, she would get up and her mother wouldn't be there for the first time in her life. In her mind, her mother was simply... away.

Whitney and Lorelei are crying, arms wrapped around each other. Together, grieving the loss of a dear friend. Shelton and his father are there too and Ella and her mother. Chance Claybourne is there as well and Tory feels discomfited with the knowledge that if it hadn't been for him, she'd be in a coffin too.

The fire that had ravished most of Charleston had been smothered; all that remained were the hulking, burned skeletons of once great buildings. No one knows how the fire started although, many were claiming Union spies. She doesn't know if Hiram believes that but she does know that he needs to think about anything besides his mother so she isn't surprised when a week later, nearing Christmas, he announces that he's going to join the war.

She doesn't want him go and yet, she can't ask him to stay. Both of them. Because, of course, Shelton is going with him. Someone needs to keep Hi out of trouble and Shelton was there for him long before Tory came into the picture. She thinks of that night in the woods with Ben, all four of them gathered around the campfire and her heart hurts.

It's a windy January day when Shelton and Hi leave. She hugs them fiercely, struggling not to cry. She manages to make it until Hi steps back from her hug and she sees how drawn and defeated he looks. That's not a face that is ever supposed to know such sadness. She wipes away the tears, sniffling into Shelton's collar.

"Take care of him, okay?" she says, her voice breaking.

"Always. I'll bring him back in tip top shape," he says.

She laughs brokenly and moves out of his arms.

"You come back too, you hear."

"Yes ma'am," he salutes her and then they're off. That night as Tory locks the front door, she passes by the kitchen and she thinks she hears Lorelei crying but the kitchen is dark and empty when she peers in. As she settles into bed that night, she thinks that the pain goes two ways. A parent should never have to bury their child but no matter how old, a child will always need their parents.

* * *

NOTE: Hellooo. I hope you enjoyed. Until next time.

(1) Hymn by Frances J Crosby. It was published in 1869 but I really liked it because I felt like it perfectly encompassed the North and the South during the period.

(2) In December 1861, there actually was a fire that ravaged most of Charleston including Circular Church where I placed this scene.


	7. Chapter 7

_**CHAPTER 7**_

A chilly January breeze cuts through the night air. Dark figures huddle over fires, their hands stretched out to the warmth, their breaths puffs of visible air. Dingy plates piled with meager rations of beans and meat and sloshing bottles of whiskey are passed around. The din of chatter, laughter and even singing fills the night air as Ben creeps away from the camp. He feels a brief twinge of fear and panic at the thought of being discovered but the thought of green eyes and a warm smile overshadows that fear. He continues the trek through the dark foliage until he comes to the shore. The moonlit waters are peaceful and still as Ben hurries to one of the tiny boats tied to the moor. Pushing the bobbing little boat off, he jumps in and grabs hold of the oars.

The dark waves licked at the sides of the boat, threatening a wet and anonymous death. There is a moment in between Morris Island, where his camp is stationed, and Charleston, where Tory lives, out in the waters when you can't see either shore and while many of the other soldiers felt discomfited by those few minutes, Ben felt comforted. His grandmother had once told him that, "there is no death, only a change of worlds." (1)

After almost an hour at sea, the little boat bobs up near the docks of Charleston and quickly tying it to the moor, Ben scrambles up the sides of the pier, arms screaming in pain. Walking through Charleston now, he could see the damage the fire had done. Burned out husks of buildings, the streets glittering still with glass and darkened by soot and ash. He quickens his pace and slips into the surrounding woods, footsteps inaudibly against the hooting owls and the sound of crickets. He passes Whisper's den, Whisper and her family all curled up together. She opens up one eye and recognizing him, returns to her sleep.

Once he reaches the house, he stands underneath her window and hurls small rocks up to catch her attention. When she comes to the window, red hair tumbling down freely, she stares down at him for a moment as if she doesn't recognize him and then, she disappears from the window, presumably coming down to meet him. He waits in the cold, dark eyes searching the garden for Cooper's golden coat.

Tory's small figure comes around the corner, hunched as if to ward off the cold. He feels guilty that she had to come out into the cold but he doesn't think he can stay away, not now.

When she reaches him, she doesn't reach for him like she usually does. Instead, she stares at the ground, shoulders shaking until he realizes she's crying. Reaching up, he tips her face towards his, thumb brushing the angry scar on her cheek. He wipes away the tears, swallowing through the lump in his throat.

"I'm sorry I didn't come any sooner," he says.

She shakes her head, red curls flying.

"It's too cold to be outside," she replies, voice cracking. She turns away, motioning he follow. Inside the house, it's warm and once again, the sheer opulence of everything takes Ben's breath away. For a moment, he can't help the twinge of resentment he feels, not towards her but towards the fact that his people live herded away from their own lands, in reservations, while those who made it so live in such a way.

"Umm... Are you hungry?"

She scrubs at her face and turns to him. Despite the fact that he skipped dinner to come here and he is rather hungry, he declines. She watches him for a moment, green eyes flickering over his face and goes into the kitchen. After a few minutes, in which Ben awkwardly stood about, she comes back with a platter of meats and cheese and bread soaked in honey. He follows her up the stairs quietly and gently shuts the bedroom door after they enter, only pausing to consider whether she wanted it closed after the fact. Her room is bare for the most part, only books and a single picture signifying that someone actually lives here. She puts the platter on the bedside table, shrugging off her thick robe and climbing back into bed. He stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, not quite knowing what to do.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" she asks, gesturing to the empty length of bed beside her.

Kicking off his boots, he crawls in beside her, settling under the warmth of the blankets. They sit in silence for awhile until she speaks.

"They're gone," she says.

"Shelton and Hi. They're gone and I miss them," she clarifies, her voice choking up again. Something in his stomach roils at the thought that his friends, honest and kind and true, had perished.

"Are they... dead?" he asks hesitantly, thinking of the burned buildings. She laughs a broken laugh.

"Good god, no. They went off to join the war. Stupid boys, so... stupid," she mutters, her voice angry but her eyes glittering with tears. Suddenly she looks up at him, green eyes burning fiercely into his. She grasps his hand, tangled among the blankets.

"Promise me you'll look out for them," she says, clutching his hand like it's a lifeline. He wants to tell her there's no guarantee he'll even see them on the battlefield but she's looking at him like a drowning man looks towards the sky, desperately and he doesn't have the heart to tell her that. Instead, he promises and eats some of the honey bread and cheese for want of something to do.

The honey is sweet on his tongue, the bread seeming to melt in his mouth, tasting far better than anything they have at camp. He wonders briefly if her lips would taste as sweet. He promptly shoves the thought away, cheeks burning in the darkness.

They sit in the dark, the only sound in the room the sound of their breathing. She's laying on her side, hair fanned out on the pillow behind her, hand outstretched to the middle where it entwines with his.

"Do you think some friendships last longer than one lifetime?"

He moves down on the bed and lays down, mirroring her position; head on pillow, facing her, hand outstretched. In the dark, he can see the white of her eyes and her pale face.

"My grandmother used to tell me that there was no death, only a change of worlds. I think some people are meant to meet no matter what life they're in," he explains a bit sheepishly. Her fingers tighten around his and then relax.

Somehow, that seems to defuse the tension and the conversation picks up. She insists on asking him silly little questions like, "what's your favorite color?" for the simple purpose of "getting to know each other". He doesn't point out to her the irony of such a thing when they're already in bed next to one another.

He doesn't know when they fall asleep but when he wakes up, the sky outside is lightening with dawn and Tory is twisting and turning on her side, brows furrowed and odd little noises coming out of her. She sits up suddenly, eyes wild and breathing heavy, hands scrabbling all over her nightgown. He grabs at her hands and she turns to him, not recognizing him for a second.

"You're okay. It was just a nightmare," he assures her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she settles. She flings herself back onto the pillow, arm flung over her eyes. He watches her for a second and then stands, retrieving his boots. Green eyes peek at him from under pale arms.

"I have to get back to camp before they realize I'm missing," he says, voice still thick with sleep.

"Okay," she mutters and turns onto her side, back to him and doesn't look up again. He lets himself out and by the time the sun is hitting the horizon, he is back in his tent.

* * *

Tory is going to die of mortification. If her mother doesn't dig herself out of her grave and kill her first, that is. She listens as Ben puts on his boots and silently makes his way out of the room. Her face is flaming red as she buries herself in the blankets.

Tory has never shared a bed with a boy before, something most people would find strange for a girl in her 19th year, whom by all means, should probably already be married but no one had ever really caught her eye and her mother certainly wasn't going to force her into a union.

Despite the deep mortification she feels at having slept with him ( _innocent sleeping_ , her brain supplies), it's still too cold during the nights to be outside so they fall into the habit of staying in her room. He doesn't come too often, once or twice a week if he can get away.

Ella, on the other hand, seems to have permanently moved into her house during the day. She's there everyday and Tory knows it's because she hates staying in the city where the skeleton buildings are a reminder of the war.

It's a rainy February morning when Ella finds the woven dreamcatcher Ben made for her after that first night he stayed. She's snooping around in Tory's wardrobe, looking at dresses when she finds the little thing hanging by its cord in the back.

"This is cute. Where'd you get it?" she asks.

Tory, like a complete idiot, simply replies from the bed where she is playing cards, "Ben made it for me".

"Ooooooh. Ben. Do tell. Who is he? What does he do?"

Curses herself silently, she looks up as Ella hops onto the bed beside her, the cards bouncing into disarray. Tory sighs and starts collecting the cards.

"None of your business, El."

Ella gasps in mock horror.

"Victoria Brennan! As your best friend, it is absolutely my business who courts you. How dare you?!" she yells dramatically, hand over her heart. Tory snorts.

"Courting? Who even says that anymore?" she grins at Ella.

"I do and don't think you can distract me, miss. I will find out who this mysterious Ben is even if it's the last thing I do!" she sticks a finger in the air, face set in determination. Her eyes flicker down to Tory's and they dissolve into giggles. It felt good to laugh.

* * *

NOTE: WOOO BEN POV! Sorry for updating so late. Finals week was a pain in the ass!

1) Quote comes from Chief Seattle

I hope you guys enjoyed. Stick around for the next chapter, I think you guys will really enjoy this one ;) Until next time.


	8. Chapter 8

**_CHAPTER 8_**

It's late February when everything changes between Ben and her. They're sitting on the boulder in the clearing, waiting to see the northern lights (or "aurora borealis" as Tory insists on using the scientific term). Tory is explaining the science behind the phenomenon to Ben, gesticulating wildly and talking a mile a minute, only pausing to breathe at the end of every run-on sentence. It's in one of these pauses that she looks over at Ben to see if he's following along when she notices he's watching her, a small smile gracing his face.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?" she intones softly, hands dropping from mid-air. In her lap, they twist and untwist, periodically smoothing out her dress.

"Nothing. Just never met a girl that talked so much," he smiles that small smile again and Tory feels her heart skip a beat. His smile is beautiful, the contrast of the whiteness of his teeth against the dark bronze of his skin, his dark hair and dark eyes a breathtaking sight. It's not the first time Tory's realized that Ben is very attractive but perhaps it's the first time she's aware of the way her heart beats a bit faster, the way her palms get sweaty and the way her stomach fills with warmth.

He's watching her and she's watching him and it's only the flare of light above that breaks the moment. The sky above breaks out into wavering strands of light; purple, green, blue and pink. It's breathtaking watching as the colors shift and the strand widens and thins across the night sky.

"It's beautiful," Tory exhales, voice coming out a breathless whisper.

"It is," she hears him say and something about his voice sounds queer. She tears her eyes from the shimmering blanket of colors above and looks down at him. The light of the aurora borealis shines down on them, tinting their skin with hues of blue and green and purple and pink. It's rare to the northern lights so far south (1) and yet he...

He's looking at her.

The air seems to crackle with electricity and Tory can feel herself blushing but she keeps her eyes fixed on him. She sees his eyes flicker down to her lips and she knows the moment he decides to kiss her. Cupping her cold cheeks with warm hands, he leans in slowly, lips stopping only a hair's breadth from her own. Their noses brush and she can feel the warm fan of his breath on her cheek. He's waiting for her, she realizes when her eyes flick back up to his.

She smiles against his lips and leans in.

His lips are soft and full and he smells like spice. He pulls her closer, hands trailing down her back and every point of contact sets her skin on fire. She feels the bite of the wind through her thin sleeves, the roughness of the stubble on his face as she strokes his face with cold fingers. He gasps at the touch and pulls back in, breathing harshly, lips gentle as they kiss the corners of her mouth. She feels something cold brush her cheek and for a second, her stomach churns and she thinks of ash.

Her eyes flutter open and she pulls back a bit, looking up at the sky. The northern lights are still lighting the sky in a weave of colors but now, little flurries of snow are falling. She looks back at Ben, whose flushed and staring at her like she put the moon in the sky. His lips are red and she can't help but lean back into him. Gently touching her forehead to his, she closes her eyes, content to surround herself with the scent of spices. In between them, her hand seeks his and grasps it.

"You're missing the lights," she says.

"There could a...second moon in the sky for all I care... I wouldn't look away from you," he murmurs, lips brushing against her cheek. She smiles.

* * *

The sweltering June sun shines down on Ella and Tory as they run around the garden in thin dresses, kicking the ball (2). They've set up "posts" at either end using old sticks. Tory hoists her skirts, reveling in the freedom it allows. Stealing the ball from Ella, Tory guides it gently down the field, avoiding the competitive bull-rushing Ella. She lines up her shot and pulls back her foot to kick it and in swoops Cooper, dragging the ball away.

"Cooper! You traitor!" Tory groans and behind her, Ella is laughing up a storm.

"Good boy, Cooper," Ella coos, grabbing the wolf dog's face and kissing him on the snout as she bends down to retrieve the ball.

"That's not fair," Tory whines, fanning herself. She really hates these Southern summers. She sweats like a pig.

Ella opens her mouth to retort when the sound of neighing horses and wheels bouncing on the gravel road reaches them. Exchanging a glance, they rush to the front of the house where already Kit has come rushing out, Whitney at his side. It's Chance.

He bows to them quickly, turning to Kit and whispering urgently in his ear. Kit murmurs something to Whitney and disappears into the house, Chance at his side.

"Whitney, what's going on?" Ella asks, long having dropped formalities around Kit and Whitney. They insisted that Ella was part of the family and such formalities were unnecessary. Kit had even gone as far as joking that Ella was his second long-lost daughter (Whitney hadn't spoken to him for 3 days).

"Nothing. Just business. Why don't you girls get out of the sun and come drink some lemonade?" she assures, not so subtly trying to distract them.

They sit down in the kitchen, watching Whitney hurry around the kitchen. She sets a pitcher of lemonade, two glasses and a plate of sandwiches down on the table before vanishing into Kit's lair.

Tory and Ella stare at each other for a second before they're both scrambling to listen at the door. They ease it open quietly and ease themselves onto their stomachs to hear better. Chance's voice floats up the stairs.

"... Union troops are marching towards Secessionville and we're getting reports of stationed troops in Virginia. The 5th, 12th and 17th infantry troops stationed at Morris were sent out this morning to meet them, they'll meet up with some of the other Confederate troops along the way. That leaves a small army manning Fort Sumter. We're gonna need something with a lot of firepower..."

Tory feels sick to her stomach. _The 5th, 12th and 17th. Sent out this morning._

 _"Private Benjamin Blue of the 17th Virginia Infantry."_

"Tor, you okay? You look a little pale," Ella whispers beside her, dark eyes worried.

 _He's gone_ , she thinks and the first thing she feels isn't sadness, it's anger. Ruth, Shelton, Hiram, Ben. Her mother. How many others was she going to lose? She looks at Ella, listening intently to the sound of Chance's voice.

 _Am I gonna lose you too?_

The sound of footsteps shakes her out of her reverie and they hastily shut the door, running back into their seats. Whitney comes out first, followed by a haggard looking Kit and a grim-faced Chance. His eyes flicker to Ella first and he takes a step closer. Ella stood, eyes wide.

He kisses the back of Ella's hand, dark brown eyes peering up at her from under dark lashes. From the corner of her eye, Tory sees Ella go pink and her lips twitch. Chance turns to her and the look in his eyes is sympathetic, almost knowing. When he kisses her hand, she feels the smooth slide of parchment paper against her palm. He steps away, bowing slightly to Kit and Whitney and vanishes out the front door.

Tory feels the paper burning a hole in her palm, calling to her but it isn't until Ella has gone home, Kit and Whitney have turned in for the night and the house is silent and still, that Tory reads it. She sits on the window sill, reading by the light of the moon.

 _They shipped us out at dawn and I could not say goodbye but perhaps, it is for the best because this isn't goodbye. I will return._

She's never seen his handwriting before and there's no signature but the drawing is enough. In the corner, there's a rough sketch of a deer with an arrow in it's heart. The story of Bluejay and Bright Moon. She feels her eyes well up with tears but she refuses to cry. Instead, she thinks of the last time she saw him, almost a week ago.

 _She's sitting across from him, sketchbook and pencil in her hands, glancing up at his face every so often. She draws the lines of concentration on his face, the little scar he has on his brow, the determined glimmer in his eye, the flowers in his hands._

 _He'd made her a flower crown and she'd laughed when she saw it, kissing him soundly when his face fell._

 _"Where did you learn how to do this?" she asked._

 _"The girl in my tribes were always doing them," he rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish._

 _"It's beautiful," she smiles and he grins._

 _"It is"._

Tory smiles at the memory, gripping the letter in her hand tighter.

In the distance, she can hear the booming of cannons.

* * *

NOTE: Hellooo! Sooo how 'bout that kiss?

(1) Astronomy Fact! The aurora borealis was actually seen in North America in 1862 but the phenomenon actually occurred in December, not February.

(2) Sports fact! The first accounts of organized ball-kicking were recorded during the American Civil War; after the war, the first official matches for soccer were reported

Until next time.


	9. Chapter 9

_**CHAPTER 9**_

"RETREAT!" (1)

The Union soldiers had long broken rank, the advancing Confederate army breaching their line. All around, Union soldiers fell to the ground, screaming in agony, their blue uniforms soaking through with red. Soldiers in gray advanced on the retreating soldiers, guns leveled with the hopes of taking down a Yankee. From further ahead, Union soldiers were returning fire under the cover of the trees.

Ben watched as one Confederate soldier, stepping up to a fallen enemy soldier who was wailing in pain, drove the thin blade of his bayonet into the man's neck. Instantly, the man fell silent, blood bubbling up from the wound as the blade came out with a wet squelch. The man began to turn when a bullet caught him across the temple. His gun clattered to the ground and he fell to the floor, glassy eyes staring blankly into the moist ground.

Across the clearing, a Union soldier slit the throat of a Confederate soldier that looked far too young to be in battle.

Ben turned away, feeling his stomach turn as he hid behind a bush. _Too many lives lost._

"Blue!"

He turned to find Ashoka, a friend Ben had made at camp, leveling his gun at Ben. For a terrifying second, Ben thought he was going to die at the hands of a man he had considered a friend. He would never see his father or his mother or his tribe. Never see Shelton or Hi or Tory. His chest tightened at the thought of death despite everything his grandmother had told him. But the bullet didn't hit him. It whizzed past him, burying itself into the chest of a Union soldier.

Ben glanced wide eyed at the man, painfully still on the ground, and turned back to Ashoka who glared at him.

"Us or them," he spat before hunkering down into position and firing into the opposite tree line. Taking a deep breath, Ben raised his gun and searched for a target. Through the crosshairs, he spotted a Union soldier running away. Aiming at the back of his thigh, Ben pulled the trigger, watching as the man fell to the ground, clutching his leg and screaming.

He ignored the voice in his head telling him this wasn't right, he ignored the way his stomach revolted every time he fired a bullet that brought a man down. He didn't want to be here, he didn't want to kill but it was his duty and the alternative, desertion, meant almost certain death. It meant never being able to return to the reservation to see his mother, it meant his people would continue to be pawns in the hands of the powerful, it... it meant no possible future with Victoria. It _was_ us or them.

The fire from the tree line stopped after the last man fell but the screaming continued long after, and on either side of Ben, his fellow Confederate soldiers marched forward, silencing those screams of the fallen. In the distance, he could hear the retreating chaos of the Union army.

That night, the camp was in high spirits. The alcohol flowed freely; big tankards of mead sloshing around, flasks of whiskey, jars of moonshine and beer. The men sang boisterously, so drunk the words of the songs were lost in the slurring. Fights broke out over alcohol. There were many from Ben's tribe who joined in the festivities but many, the old who remembered the days of the Trail, looked upon these proceedings with barely concealed distaste.

Ben himself couldn't fathom celebrating, knowing that he had killed so many people in these past three days. When he closed his eyes, it was the faces of those men out on the field he saw, bloody and slack, eyes blank and unseeing. It was their screams he heard and the sounds of bones shattering, of blood gurgling from throats, of pleadings for mercy.

In the privacy of his tent, far away from prying eyes, he reached into his breast pocket where he hid the picture. The corners were worn from all the times he'd run his fingers alongside the edges, the surface smooth and soft. In the dark, he couldn't see the photograph itself very well but he already knew what he'd see. He had long ago memorized the solemn expression, the curling tendrils framing her face, the bright mischievous eyes. He remembered the day he took this, April earlier that year.

 _The rain hit the windows, a steady and soothing rhythm. Light creeped in from between the curtains, soft and gray in the growing dawn. The warm body at his side shifts and almost unconsciously, he clutches it tighter against him, the intoxicating smell of rosemary and lavender drawing him in. He wakes slowly, blinking in the soft gray light and listening to the light drizzling rain. Propping himself up lazily on an elbow, he glances down at Victoria, nestled in his arms, her back warm and solid against his front. Her breaths still even with sleep, he takes the opportunity to trace her features with his eyes, admiring her beauty. Elegant arched eyebrows, dark lashes fluttering over pale cheeks, thin pink lips, a smattering of freckles over the bridge of her nose and cheeks._

" _Stop staring at me," she mumbled, turning to burrowing her face into his shoulder._

" _Sleep, ahyoka (2). I am leaving," he murmurs, breathing in deeply the smell of rosemary and lavender before he forces himself out of the bed. Tory's hand darts out from under the blankets and clutches his wrist in a viselike grip._

" _Don't go… please," she whispers, voice small and vulnerable. He knows she is thinking of Shelton and Hiram and it's days like these, he wishes he could just stay and forget the war but he has a responsibility to his people. To his lineage and tribe._

 _Leaning forward on one knee, he presses a kiss to her forehead, eyes falling shut with the pain of knowing how it hurts to leave behind the people you love, never knowing if that will be the last time you see them. In that moment, he thinks of his mother, back on the reservation, not knowing whether her husband and son will live or die._

 _When he pulls back, her face is scrunched up like she's trying not to cry. She takes a deep breath and when she opens her eyes, they're full of fiery determination._

" _Go," she says and he understands._

 _He's leaning down, putting on his boots when something catches his attention. It's a photograph. He runs a finger over the soft, smooth surface and down the thin edge. He senses Tory watching and she doesn't protest when he picks the picture up and slips it into his breast pocket._

" _It's not me," she says matter-of-factly. He hates it when she does that because it makes him feel stupid but he's never said so and he doesn't now. He doesn't respond until his hand is on the doorknob._

" _I know but it's the closest I'll have."_

* * *

It is nearing three weeks when they meet the Union soldiers once again on the battlefield. This time, it's in Maryland and the long day is a blur of blood and corpses (3). The ground is cushioned with the bodies of fallen soldiers, the soil drenched with blood.

At one point, Ben finds himself on the bridge, back against the hard stone, a Northerner holding a dagger to his throat. The muscles in his arms strain as he fights to keep the dagger away from his throat. He brings his knee up into the man's back, throwing the soldier off balance and he feels the cold sting of the blade as it nicks the side of his neck. Grabbing the blade before the man can regain his balance, he slashes horizontally, closing his eyes when warm blood washes over him. Shoving the body off him, he picks up a gun, lines up a shot and shoots. At the base of the bridge, a Union soldier falls to the floor, a bullet in his head.

It's not the last time he finds himself at the wrong end of a weapon and by the end of the day, he's bloody and bruised. He aches all over and he's sure that the bullet graze on his arm is already infected by the way it throbs dully. That pain is nothing though compared to the searing pain he feels when, at the end of the battle as they're retreating, someone shoots him in the shoulder. He's losing blood fast and for some reason, all he can think about is blood getting on the picture of Tory. The sky above him is a myriad of soft colors; purple and blue and pink and gold. Ben's eyes are growing heavy and the pretty colors don't seem so important anymore.

His eyes close and he fades away.

* * *

NOTE: Don't kill me!

(1) Battle of Second Manassas/Second Bull Run which happened in late August of 1862 in Virginia. This was a Confederate victory and one of the many battles in which the Catawba Indians fought in.

(2) Ahyoka is Cherokee for "Bringer of Joy" or "she who brings happiness".

(3) September of 1862, in Maryland, the Battle of Antietam (or Sharpsburg) was fought. Although this battle was technically inconclusive, the Confederacy retreated first therefore it technically a Union victory. Bloodiest battle in American history and is significant because it convinced President Lincoln to issue the Emancipation Proclamation.

I hope you guys enjoyed. Until next time.


	10. Chapter 10

Tory held the pins out to Whitney who was twisting Ella's hair into an elaborate up-do. Ella sat at Tory's vanity, staring at the mirror, a contemplative expression on her face. She didn't look very ecstatic for someone who was about to spend an evening with Charleston's most eligible bachelor. She looked as if she were trying to solve a difficult puzzle, eyebrows scrunched up and lips thinning.

Whitney was chattering away a mile a minute about... well Tory didn't really know actually, she'd tuned her yammering out half an hour ago. Tory hadn't been very surprised when a few days ago, Ella had marched into her room at half-past noontime and excitedly relayed that she had a date with one Chance Claybourne. They had been dancing around each other for nearly a month ever since they'd found themselves at the same play. Tory was happy for Ella. Really. Chance was a nice guy but Tory couldn't help the sudden bouts of resentment she felt when she thought of how he had bought his way out of the war while Hi, Shelton and Ben were putting their lives on the life.

Whitney finished pinning up Ella's dark hair and moved back to examine her work. She sighed dreamily.

"You look lovely, my dear. Let me go get you some of my perfume", Whitney floated out of the room in her usual grace and Tory was left with an uncomfortable-looking Ella.

"Tor?"

Tory hummed in response, looking up from where she'd been looking out the window.

"Do you think I'm being selfish? I mean, I know there's a war going on right now but is it bad that I want this to work?"

In the year that Tory had known Ella, she'd never seemed so small and uncertain before. Tory stood and knelt beside Ella's chair, taking Ella's hands in her own. She smiled warmly, the fondness she felt for this girl an all-encompassing warmth.

"It's not selfish of you. Life doesn't stop; not for you, not for me, not for war. This war will end eventually but Chance won't be single forever. So go, enjoy your evening. The world will still be here when you get back," Tory smiled and Ella's eyes were suspiciously bright. When she spoke, her voice was thick with emotion.

"I'm glad I met you, Victoria Brennan," she chokes out and then Whitney is knocking at the door. She pokes her head in the room, eyeing them suspiciously for a moment and then she informs them that Chance has arrived and is waiting downstairs in the foyer. They stand and for a brief moment, Ella throws her arms around Tory, crushing Tory against her body.

"Good luck, El," Tory whispers, voice muffled against Ella's skin. Ella steps back, winks and pirouettes, slipping out of the room. Tory steps back to the window, watching as Chance helps Ella into the carriage. She feels a split second of envy, thinking of how much she'd give to have the boys back there at her side. It's with a heavy heart that she turns to find Whitney sitting at the edge of her bed. Tory eyes her warily and throws herself into Ella's vacated seat in front of the vanity.

Looking in the mirror, she sees how terrible she looks. Her skin is pale, dark bags bruise the skin under her eyes and her hair is a curly frizz. She grabs her comb and begins to comb through when in the reflection, she sees Whitney stand and move up behind her. Whitney takes the comb from her hand, silently settling into the task of combing through Tory's mane.

Tory finds herself watching Whitney's reflection in the mirror. Notices, for the first time, how her lips pull downwards at the corners. How her eyebrows pull together slightly, the pallor of her skin, the slight tremor in her hand. She looks miserable, Tory thinks and she wonders how she'd never noticed it. Even as she thinks it though, she knows the answer. Whitney hides it, behind smiles and laughs, silly stories and ramblings.

Tory feels a deep shame because despite not being narcissistic enough to think it's because of her, she knows that her attitude towards Whitney may have a part in it. She thinks of what she said to Ella about how it's not selfish to want things and remembers how excited Whitney was that first day Tory arrived. How she babbled on about wanting a daughter. She thinks of that day in the carriage, Whitney's stricken face and the crying coming from behind the closed door. She thinks maybe it doesn't matter that Whitney could never replace her mom, the fact that she's there and trying, just like Kit, should be enough. Sure, Whitney annoys her sometimes with her constant attempts to foist some well-off, handsome bachelor onto Tory but she did it because she wanted what was best for Tory- or at least what she thought was best. Tory and her mother had clashed often enough for Tory to know that family wasn't always easy. Besides, they were at war. She thought of Shelton and Hi and Ben and Ruth. Her mother. She should appreciate the people she still has before they're gone.

"I'm sorry."

The words tumble out of Tory's mouth before she can stop them and behind her, Whitney freezes. Swallowing down her shame, Tory takes a deep breath and continues.

"I'm sorry for treating you so horribly and making you so miserable. I'm sorry I'm not the daughter you want and I'm sorry you can't have her but you have to understand that I don't want to marry. At least not now and not for money. You won't ever replace my mother but you're family?"

Her voice trips and shakes along the way, the end coming out like a question. Suddenly struck by some indescribable fear that Whitney won't accept her apology, that she'll get angry, Tory looks up at Whitney who looks like she's struggling not to cry. She nods frantically, head bobbing. She takes a moment to compose herself and then speaks.

"I would never try to replace your mother, Tory. I know that I could never be what she is to you or what she was to your father but I wanted so bad for us to be a family that I couldn't see you didn't want a new one," Whitney cried, blue eyes swimming in tears. Tory feels something curl in the pit of her stomach, something that feels an awful lot like self-loathing.

She's on her feet and hugging Whitney in a flash.

"I got one anyways and I do want it," Tory mumbles against Whitney's soft blonde hair, swallowing around the lump in her throat. She feels the sob shake Whitney's body and then it's she who is comforting Whitney instead of the other way around.

When Whitney's tears finally dry up, Tory steps back, feeling strangely light. She smiles at Whitney who wipes at her face with dainty hands.

"How about we go drag Kit from his lab?" Tory muses. Whitney tries to smile but it comes out wobbly and weak as her eyes well with tears once again. She looks away from Tory, blinking at the window.

"It is a beautiful day out. We could have a picnic," she says, voice breaking at first and then gaining strength. They head out together and split once they reach the kitchen. Tory opens the door to the cellar, making her way down the steps. Upstairs, she can hear Whitney puttering around in the kitchen.

Down below, Kit is banging a mallet onto a sheet of metal, thick gloves obscuring his forearms. He looks up at Tory, eyes wonky and immensely wide through the lens of his glasses. He looks like a mad scientist with his hair sticking up in tufts all over the place and the crazy eyes.

"We're having a picnic," she says in way of explanation as to why she's down there.

"What time is it?" he asks, big eyes blinking at her.

"Five," she replies.

"Huh. I thought it was still morning," he sounds confused as he strips his gloves and takes off the bifocals. Tory rolls her eyes amusedly, leading the way back upstairs where Whitney is preparing sandwiches. She stacks the mountain of sandwiches all on a tray, sending Kit to call Lorelei, Linus and Nelson over. Meanwhile, Tory busies herself by pouring the iced tea into tall glasses.

Outside, they settle themselves in the garden and let Cooper loose. The sun is shining, the sky overhead is a cloudless, never-ending blue and the humidity isn't too high. All in all, it's a pretty good way to end the day. They stay out there till dusk, watching the sun go down over the hills. There's laughter and stories and Tory forgets that there is a war raging on outside this bubble of peace. She laughs when Cooper comes up to Whitney and starts licking her face. When Lorelei tells a story about little Shelton and little Hi pranking Kit, she laughs along ignoring the pang in her heart. It's her family, missing a few people but still whole and Tory wishes they could stay in this bubble of peace forever.

* * *

NOTE: Helloo. So sorry for the wait. As you can see, this was mainly a filler chapter for 2 reasons. 1) so I could focus on building background relationships and 2) because I'm evil and I needed to create suspense for when I reveal Ben's status.

Aren't Tory and Whitney adorable? Like I know I am warping the characters a bit here but it's an AU okay set in wartime. There's bound to be mushy moments. Personally I just love the potential their relationship has and I love the Ella and Tory friendship (totally gonna ignore Terminal events).

Anyhoo I hope you enjoyed. Thank you for all the reviews :*


	11. Chapter 11

_There is a girl._

 _She swings around and around, laughing freely. These arms, unrecognizable, marked with scars, strong and tan, put her down and she blinks wide green eyes._

 _"Aki, wake up," she says._

 _"Wake up."_

Waking up feels like swimming. Memories, or maybe dreams, haze in and out of periphery. There is a camp with people full of stories and customs. There are two boys, friendly and laughing about something. And there is a girl with fiery red hair and green eyes.

The ceiling above is white and the sounds of moaning and wailing drift through the air. He shifts and pain lances through his body, he can't contain the whimper that he emits. He feels something in his shoulder, under the bandages, rip. A face moves into view overhead.

"Well it's about time, sleeping beauty. Now can you tell me what your name is?"

Her voice is far too loud and he struggles to sit up, his body feels constricted in the tight bandages. He feels like he can't breathe. Red is blooming across the stark white bandages but he doesn't care too much. Her question brings up a good point. He sifts through the hazy mix of memories and dreams, grasping for something concrete. He runs smack dab into the metaphorical wall in his head, the one that tells him "this is who you are. What you do. What you want. Who those people are."

" My name is... Benjamin Blue," he says, throat raspy with disuse.

"Good. I'll go get you some water and then I'll check that shoulder. Nasty little bugger, that bullet," she says, moving away from the bed. He remembers then why he's there. That bastard shot him in the shoulder when they were retreating. All around, men are lying in beds, bleeding and crying out in pain. Some are deadly still and Ben wonders if they're dead. It seems surreal to be here but he knows it's real. He runs through a mental list of everything.

His people are the last of the Sewee tribe. His mother is back on the reservation and his father is in the war. He is a soldier in the 12th Infantry of Northern Virginia. The year is 1862. His friends are Shelton Devers and Hiram Stolowitski. The girl... Victoria Brennan. She was his _ahyoka._ The girl he loved.

* * *

The wedding is beautiful. There are flowers everywhere, pink and purple and blue. The ceremony takes place in the gardens of Claybourne Manor. There's a koi fish pond and cherry blossom trees. It looks as if the entire town has come out for the wedding. A warm April spring breeze stirs the trees and decorations, a low hum compared to the chatter of the crowd.

Tory finds it amusing how many girls her age seem put out by the fact they're not the ones marrying Chance. When Ella comes out in a beautiful white dress, decorated with pearls and lace, the jealousy triples.

Tory is acting as maid of honor, her dress a light blue that matches the color of the blue hydrangeas. Jason, as the best man, is her escort. Whitney is serving as the matron of honor (Tory can still hear the ringing in her ears from the scream she let out when Ella asked her) with Kit as her escort and she looks like a doll in her dress. Ella's mother is crying and her husband seems like a puffed up peacock with all the preening he's doing. No one talks about the elephant in the room, how there's really no one for Chance. His parents had died long ago and he'd inherited his fortune at the mere age of 14. Still, Whitney and the Francis' seem to have no problem folding him into theirs because make no mistake, Ella is as much Whitney and Kit's as Tory is (barring the fact that Tory actually is Kit's biological daughter). Point is, Ella is family regardless of blood and law just as the Devers and the Stolowitski's are.

The food is to die for and if there's one thing Tory loves about the South, it's the food. They don't use much spices in the North. During the first dance, when everyone is watching Ella and Chance, Tory feels a multitude of emotions. She's happy for Ella who's never looked more beautiful and more happy than she does today but another part of her yearns for the day she will get to walk down the aisle. When her future husband will look at her with the same awe and love Chance looked at Ella with. For a brief moment she can see it in her mind's eye. Ben standing at the altar. Then reality hits and she remembers that Ben is off at war, possibly dead along with Shelton and Hi and she feels angry. Not at Ella and Chance but at the world.

She has to dance with Jason but her body is stiff with pent up rage. Jason is murmuring in her ear about how happy Chance looks and Tory can feel herself deflate with every word. Today isnt about her and her problems, she thinks, its about Ella and Chance who are beginning their new life together. She hands Jason over to Madison, who lights up like the sun, and goes to congratulate Ella and Chance.

* * *

That night, she throws herself into bed. She feels her body sink into the mattress, her body relaxing and it feels heavenly. Then she hears it. CLINK. She freezes, face turned into the pillow, breathing shallowly.

 _I'm imagining it. He's not there,_ she thinks. This has happened before. She'd imagine the clinking of rocks against the window pane and scramble to the window, searching the dark night for a figure, a shadow out of place. But he was never there. She doesn't want to get up this time, hoping, only to be let down. But then she hears it again and it sounds so real. She flings herself off the bed, her feet tangling up in the blankets, almost face planting onto the floor and scrambles up to the window. She hoists it up and looks out. The garden down below is dark and full of shadows but the moonlight helps. Just below her window, face turned up to her, is a man.

Before Tory can even register moving, she's running across the room and throwing the door to her bedroom open. Caution be damned. Kit sleeps like the dead anyways. She throws open the front door and without bothering to close it, runs around the corner of the house and stops. He's standing there, looking at her, the only sign that months have passed is the fact that his hair is long again. Tory sort of forgets how to breathe in that moment and her limbs don't seem to be on speaking terms with her brain. She feels like if she moves any closer, he'll disappear like an illusion.

"I said I'd be back," he says and that's what shatters it, the fear that he isn't real. She launches herself into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck, reveling in the feel of his arm around her waist. He buries his face in her neck, one hand frantically smoothing down her hair. She shushes him gently as he shakes in her arms.

"It's okay. It's okay. You're here now," she soothes, leaning back to look at his face. Living off military rations, his face is thinner and gaunt, pronouncing his cheekbones and jawline. His hair is curling around his ear, not quite as long as when she'd first seen him. But his eyes tell a different story. One of pain and suffering yet still so full of hope. She can feel her heart break and swell with happiness simultaneously.

Resting her hand on his face, she leans in and kisses him hard. It's nothing like their first kiss. Their first was sweetness and passion, everything good and right with the world. This one is rough, tinged with anger and pain and desperation. The need to be closer to him is an overwhelming one. It's like a drowning man desperate for land. He bites her lower lip, soothing the sting with his tongue. Burying her fingers in his hair, she angles his head to deepen the kiss, tugging lightly at the roots to get him to open his mouth. She feels her tongue brush up against his and moans. Her chest burns with a lack of oxygen and she needs to breathe. Pulling her mouth away, leaving three pecks in quick succession, she looks at him. His eyes are dark with lust and even in the poor lighting, against his darker skin tone, she can see the flush in his cheeks.

She feels her own cheeks flame and huffs, feeling a bit silly after having basically mauled the man. Not that he minds, she thinks.

"If you ever leave again, I will kill you myself," she says, voice low, resting her forehead against his. He hums in agreement and with that, they sit in the gardens, too wrapped up in each other to notice the eyes watching from above. For the next few hours, they pretend that their time isn't limited and that he won't leave again. They talk about a future that might never come to be.

* * *

NOTE: So I didn't kill him! Alright guys by my calculations, this fic should have a total of about 20 chapters by the end, give or take a few depending on how I stretch it out. I hope you guys enjoyed.

PS: I have another BenxTory fic in mind but I don't know when I'll be starting it because I do have my other fic to work on and I'd like to finish these two before school starts because I'm going to be really busy with college applications, scholarships and regular schoolwork so just keep an eye out for it.


	12. Chapter 12

**Warning: sexual content ahead. (Clarification: Tory is 21 in this, Ben 23)**

* * *

Tory comes down the stairs, yawning loudly, arms stretching. In the kitchen, Kit and Linus are speaking in low urgent voices, hands wrapped around cups of coffee. Kit looks worried, that familiar little crease between his eyebrows appearing. When she walks in, they fall silent and plaster smiles on their faces as they turn to her. She narrows her eyes at them.

"What's going on?" she asks warily. They mumble negative in turn, too carefree for it to be anything but suspicious. Kit crumbles under her glare first. Slumping in his seat, he sighs and massages his eyes.

"Fort Wagner on Morris has been abandoned (1)."

Tory slams the kettle down on the counter, whirling around.

"That's one of the city's main defenses! They can't just abandon it! What happens to Fort Sumter?" she says, hands in the air, gesticulating wildly.

"They were under siege, Tor. We can hold Sumter for a while longer but with the Union manning Wagner on Morris, it's only a matter of time before we lose Sumter too," he placated, face haggard and so much older. Tory feels a panic seize her because if they've lost Wagner and will lose Sumter soon enough, it's only a matter of time before the Union troops come marching in. She thinks of the fire at the church. _How bad is it gonna be?_ , she thinks.

She thinks of Shelton and Hi and Ben, of the stories about Northern prisoner camps.

She looks at Kit's face, sees how tired he looks, and Linus, who hasn't smiled since before Ruth's death. _How much longer will this war go on?_

The kitchen feels too hot and stuffy. Tory can't breathe. Wheezing out an 'excuse me', she makes her out of the house and into the garden. She holds onto the stone bench, knuckles pressing against the unyielding stone, nails cutting into her palms. Her mind is an endless array of images, of blood and bodies and gravestones. She searches for the light, grasping at happy memories that shy away in the writhing darkness. She finds one.

 _The blanket rustles under her as she shifts. Ben's arm comes into her line of vision as he reaches up to point out a constellation._

 _"That star there is The Star That Does Not Walk Around," he said, finger pointing at the North Star._

 _"We call it the North Star. What do you call the Big Dipper and the Little Dipper?" she asks, pointing out the nearby stars._

 _"Those are the stretchers carrying the gods of creation, followed by the Medicine Man, his wife and the Errand Man," he pointed out the three stars of the handles._

 _"Down the middle, they say is the Pathway of the Departed Spirits" he turns his head to her, soft long hair spilling onto the blanket. Propping herself up on her elbow, she reaches out and twirls a strand around her finger. He's looking up at her, breath stuttering. She grins and leans down, pressing an open mouthed kiss on his lips. His arm wraps around her waist, hand settling on her back. His lips part under hers as she deepens the kiss. Her skin tingles with every contact. She can smell the spice her mind has come to associate with him, feel the burn of his stubble, the softness of his hair. She slides her hand up his chest and across broad shoulders, fisting the fabric in her hands as their noses bump against each other._

 _Hands wandering further down, she stills his hands at her waist and pulls away. The silvery glow of the moon brightens the coppery tone of his skin and under it, she can see how his pupils have dilated, how his skin is flush with color, how his breaths come out heavy and uneven. She can only imagine what she looks like, hair mussed, lips swollen, cheeks red with color. Crooking her finger at him, she grins. Sitting up, he huffs and echoes what she said the day they first kissed a year ago._

 _"You're missing the lights," he says and she can feel his smile against her lips._

 _"They'll still be there afterwards," she mumbles and leans back in, fingers curling in soft dark hair (2)._

She doesn't know when she started crying but she's sobbing and god, she's so sick of crying. She never cried this much before but she's never had so many people to love and care for before. Truth of the matters is, hurt is part of the package when you love someone. She reaches up to wipe the tears away, trying to calm her erratic breathing, when she catches sight of the blood on her knuckles. The skin there is scraped off and dark red circles cut into the flesh of her palms, some drawing blood. A sort of demented laugh bubbles up and out of Tory and she thinks morbidly, _this is what it's like to go crazy._

"Tory?"

She drops her hands to her side, laughter cutting off, as Whitney walks up beside her. She sees the blood first.

"Oh honey, what did you do to yourself?"

She soothes the sting of the cuts, dabbing at the blood with her handkerchief and then she looks up. Steering Tory around and onto the bench, she settles beside her and brings Tory's head to lie on her lap. They sit there quietly for awhile, Tory staring off into space and Whitney running her hand through Tory's hair, singing softly under her breath.

* * *

Tory's a mess by the fifth day comes around. She hasn't heard anything from Ben since before the news of Fort Wagner and Whitney is worried sick about her. Even Kit's noticed how she doesn't eat and how pale she looks. Ella is still on her honeymoon in Paris (how long is a honeymoon honestly?!).

She's off exploring in the woods behind the house, Coop at her side, when she finds the cabin. Its small and the insides are full of dust but it's warm and dry and something in Tory wants to fix it up, maybe if just to keep busy and keep her thoughts at bay. She spends the next two days cleaning it and she swears she won't ever get all the dust out of her nose but its worth it in the end.

She's sinking into bed that night, bone tired, when she hears it. The clinking of rocks against the glass. She's out of bed and down the stairs in a matter of seconds. Crushing their mouths together so hard their teeth clack, she pulls away and grabs his hand. Ignoring his inquiries and apologies, she marches through the woods pulling him along until they reach the cabin. She watches him as he takes the cabin and turns to her.

Crowding her against the doorway, he presses a kiss against her lips, soft and tender. Then he kisses her jaw and then his lips are kissing her neck. They suck and nibble at the spot where her collarbones meet and she's throwing back her head to bare more of her throat but he's pulling her back in for a kiss. The kiss is hungry and demanding, so much more raw and dirtier than any before. Its teeth and lips and tongue and every drop of anger and worry and fear in their body. And love, so much love.

She shrugs out of her dress, feeling a bit bare with only her corset and hoop skirt, having forgone the petticoats in the crisp September air. Her fingers slide down to the edge of his shirt and then she's pushing it up and over his head. The coppery skin underneath is warm and soft to the touch but the way it stretches taut over his bones makes her pause. A lump in her throat, she runs a finger down the visible ribs, feeling how they catch in each hollow. Eyes flickering to Ben's face, she sees the uneasiness, the fear that maybe she finds him repulsive. Cupping his face, she leans in and kisses him, guiding his hands to the strings of her corset. She feels the ribbons slide against her skin as he loosens the corset and it falls away. She shimmies out of the crinoline and then she's pushing him backwards onto the bed.

Crawling up the length of the bed towards him, she settles on his thighs and leans down to capture his lips. His hands settle on the skin underneath her chemise and they stroke gently down the side. Grabbing the edges of it, she pulls it over her head and shivers as the cool air brushes against her naked skin. He's looking at her, pupils dilated, and it makes her feel self-conscious. Sitting up, he mouths at her neck first, then collarbone and then his lips fall to her breasts. She cried out, fingers falling into the dark locks of his hair, losing herself to the heat of the passion as her brain shut down.

Afterwards, her brain is still short-circuiting a bit but she knows she's never done that before. For a brief moment, she feels a deep shame that she's done this without being married like her mother would have wanted her to but her mother never married Kit. She knows Ella had sex with Chance long before they married. Why should I feel guilty?, she thinks.

She looks over at Ben who's asleep beside her, lips parted, hair dangling in front of his face. Smiling, she turns on her side towards him and tucks the hair behind his ear.

"I love you," she thinks but she must have said it out loud because Ben smiles and without opening his eyes, responds.

"And I you, _ahyoka_. Now sleep."

He tugs her toward him and she rests her head on his chest, fingers splaying across the hills and valleys of his ribs. She finds herself drifting off to the sound of his heartbeat, strong and steady underneath her.

* * *

NOTE: I cant even begin to apologize for this. This was my first attempt at writing a sex scene and I am literally so mortified right now.

(1) Fort Wagner on Morris Island was abandoned in September 1863 after a siege. Following this, Fort Sumter was gradually reduced to rubble.

(2) These names were used by the Skidi Pawnee tribe in central Nebraska in the 1700s. There is a star chart from the tribe, depicting important star patterns, in Chicago's Field Museum of Natural History.

Until next time.


	13. Chapter 13

A week later, the news of a battle in Georgia reaches South Carolina (1). Tory doesn't get the details from Kit but it's troubling enough that he heads out to Columbia, which Tory knows has become a meeting place for educated Southern people to discuss the war. Whitney is a fidgety mess all weekend and the task falls to Tory to keep her calm.

She sets the teacup in front of Whitney who is looking out the window. Tory picks up her own cup and blows at the scalding tea. When it's cooled, Tory sips cautiously. The tea is sweet and warm, unfurling a ball of warmth deep in her stomach. She can almost feel her troubles drift away. Tory's mom loved tea and always having it around was one of the big reasons Tory never really liked coffee. It was so bitter compared to tea and lately, just the smell of it gets her sick.

"I feel so useless", Whitney whispers into the silence. Tory freezes in her seat, eyes flickering up to Whitney's face. She sets her teacup down gently and sucks in a breathe, smoothing the skirt of her dress. Despite the fact Whitney isn't even looking at her, Tory feels the need to fake a smile.

 _Does she know?_

"What do you mean?" Tory asks dumbly, wrinkling her nose in confusion. Whitney doesn't so much as glance at her.

"All those men risking their lives in battle. Their families never knowing if they're alive or dead. Children orphaned, wives widowed. I just wish I could do something... like those women who serve as nurses" Whitney explains, voice laced with an immense sadness. Her blue eyes flicker to Tory's and she looks at her with such pity, there is no doubt in Tory's mind that she knows something. Or at least suspects it.

She's about to respond when a carriage pulls up at the front of the house. Through the window, Tory sees Ella step out.

The reunion with Ella proves an excellent distraction from the world as she regales Tory with story after story about her honeymoon in Paris. They fetch Lorelei and the four of them gather round the kitchen table to gossip, acting as if the world weren't ending outside. It feels nice to just do something normal for once and Tory's glad her friend is back. She's going to have a talk with one Chance Claybourne about stealing people's best friend for indefinite periods of time.

* * *

The next few months past slowly with more and more news about battles and engagements all across the states. With Fort Wagner on Morris abandoned, the number of Confederate troops around Charleston has doubled. When Tory heads into town with Ella to run an errand for Whitney, they find the main street crawling with soldiers. Tory doesn't know if it's the beady eyes she feels on her or if it's the way the market is completely silent today but something rubs her the wrong way about all this. It isn't until April that they all leave.

She's lying in bed, itching to kick away the blanket that covers her. Her skin feels like it's on fire and she blames Ben. Cool fingertips brush a path down her naked back, featherlight and ticklish. Shifting onto her side to face him, she props herself up on an elbow and drags the blanket to her chest.

After months of her bringing him food, he's gotten some meat back on his bones and even now over his shoulder, she can see the empty plate of food. He's kept his hair shoulder-length (how Tory likes it best). Dark brown eyes open and look back at her sleepily.

"I don't want to gooo," he whines miserably, pulling her forward with the hand on her hip and hiding his face against her stomach. She laughs out loud, fingers running through the soft silky hair. For a grown man, Ben can be surprisingly childish and like with Shelton and Hi, Tory finds it endearing.

Cupping his jaw, she pulls him up and kisses him. It's sweet and slow like molasses but it makes her body tingle. His hands run down the length of her body and settle on her hips. Swiftly he pulls her up and over onto him, the blanket sliding away. Her hands slide down his chest, feeling the thundering pace of his heartbeat underneath her palm. She smiles into the kiss, nipping at his lower lip. Pulling away, she looks down at the mess she's made. His hair is all mussed, cheeks flushed with color, lips shiny and soft. Dark half-lidded eyes filled with lust stare up at her. Her heart swells with emotion and her throat clogs up. He's so freaking beautiful and she loves him. She does and he loves her. She thinks that perhaps their love is not an all-consuming fire that will die in a blaze of glory (how Ella claims to love Chance) but it is a steady flame keeping them both warm and that's much better for them.

Heart in her throat, she leans down and peppers his face with kisses. On the nose, on the lips, his cheeks, his forehead, his chin. When she pulls away, the wetness on her lips startles her. Tory's never seen Ben cry before and she's still trying to register this when he pulls her in and buries his face in her hair. She can feel the trembles that run down his body, the hot tears against her neck, matting her hair against it. Shushing him gently, murmuring reassurances in his ear, she smooths a hand up and down his back, her other hand smoothing down his hair.

"Tor... I'm scared."

His voice is a broken whisper so low she almost misses it. She can almost feel her heart breaking.

"I know. I know. I am too," she admits. Pulling away from him, she takes in the tear-tracks and puffy eyes. Leaning her forehead against his, she shuts her eyes, seeking his hands in between them.

"We'll get through this. The war will end soon enough."

 _It has to,_ she thinks.

Behind her, the sun's first rays are peaking over the horizon and she knows by tonight, he'll be gone.

After he's composed himself, the familar mask of indifference sliding into place, he starts dressing. Together, they walk to the bank where the boat bobs in the water.

"Come back to me," Tory pleads. He steps toward her and lays a kiss on her brow and she closes her eyes, trying to remember the exact feel of his lips on her skin.

"Always, _ahyoka._ "

* * *

NOTE: So sorry for the wait. Had a bit of writers block. We're getting into the final chapters!

(1) The Battle of Chickamauga was fought in Georgia in late September of 1863. Also Columbia, South Carolina did serve as a meeting place for Southerners during the war.

These two bring me simultaenous joy and pain. hope you enjoyed.


	14. Chapter 14

The deafening blast of the cannonballs rattled Ben's bones to the core. Across the field, he saw bodies fly up into the air, dismembered arms and legs and torsos tossed around like dolls. The soil underneath his boots was wet with the blood of his fallen soldiers which lay around him. Even having the advantage over the Yankees, they had lost too many men.

The world had narrowed down to this tiny piece of land in Virginia, a cacophony of blasts and screams and shouts. Between the two armies, in the land deemed to be "No Man's Land" rose the wooden spokes of siege. Already the battle had raged for 2 weeks, silence only falling in the still of the night.

To the far left and far right, Ben could see his men digging in the trenches, lengthening them. He knew that if Petersburg were ever to fall, then Richmond would fall and thus the entire South. Frankly he didn't care about much of the South, these were the people that had killed most of tribe back in the Yamasee War (1). They had decimated his tribe with their foreign diseases and their devil spirit drinks. Because of these people, the few remaining members of his tribe had been forced to join the Catawba. They had no identity of their own anymore.

Even after all that, all his people had been forced into the reservations, forced to walk hundreds of miles, dying and starving along the way (2). No, Ben didn't care at all for the South but it was required of all Catawba males to join the war and it was his tribe's rightful homeland. But even more, the South was where his heart lay and he would be damned if the enemy ever lay hands on her.

Gritting his teeth, Ben leveled his gun and set his cross-hairs on the enemy. Till nightfall, bodies dropped on both sides, the trenches ran red with blood and the prayers of the damned fell on silent ears.

* * *

"Tory, tell me who it is. I am gonna hunt that bastard down and flay him alive. HOW DARE HE?!"

Tory flinched at Kit's bellows and beside her, Whitney smoothed a hand down her arm gently.

"Kit, honey, let her talk and sit down for heaven's sake. You're scaring her," Whitney admonished and Kit, looking sheepish, plopped down on the couch.

"It wasn't like that… he never… he didn't… I wanted to," Tory fumbled for words, trying to understand how her life ever came to this point. Her cheeks flushed and tears welled in her eyes. When she peaked up at Kit through her lashes, he looked shell-shocked. Leaning back against the cushions, his mouth opened and closed.

"But… you're so young," he said, voice a tiny whisper of awe. Tory's head shot up, green eyes full of fire. Anger bubbled in her veins and she stood.

"I am 21 years old! I am not a child. I can make my own choices and don't you dare patronize me about having a child without being married. You didn't even know I existed until mom died!"

Tory's voice rose as she spoke and with every word, she moved closer until she stood directly over Kit. Behind her, Whitney made a noise of distress and within seconds, she was pulling Tory away from Kit.

"Tory, honey, please calm down. It's not good for the baby. Your father just wants to protect you," Whitney soothed placatingly.

"I don't need his protection! God, what is wrong with this world that a grown woman isn't seen capable of making her own choices?! So I had sex before marriage. Are they going to burn me at the stake for it?"

As Tory ranted, Whitney led her upstairs. When she had first told Whitney, Whitney had cried and ever since, she was always fluttering around Tory. It was irritating sometimes but Tory couldn't be angry with her for being excited at the prospect of being a grandmother although Whitney had banned the word, proclaiming she was too young to be a grandmother.

They reached Tory's room, Tory falling silent. She watched the dust motes floating in the beam of sunlight until Whitney spoke up.

"It's that soldier that came here before, right? Private Benjamin?"

Tory looked over at her, eyes taking in the beautiful blonde curls and doll-like features.

"How long have you known?" she asked quietly. Whitney smiled.

"You really should be more quiet when you're sneaking out," she laughed softly, eyes glazing over.

"You know, I loved someone before I met your father. I was a bit younger than you. His name was Richard, he was our gardener," her voice was wistful, eyes flickering with ghosts.

"When my father found out, he forbade me to see him and sent him back to Europe" she sneered, lips curling in disgust and tone bitter. Coming back to the present, she smiled at Tory who was looking at Whitney in a completely new light.

"Don't ever let anyone stand in the way of your happiness, Tory," she looked at her somberly and then she clapped her hands and bounced on the bed and it was the Whitney Tory had always known. But now she knew better.

"Now, what names are you thinking of?"

Tory grinned, hand slipping to her lower stomach.

* * *

The world was blanketed in white silence, a beautiful winter wonderland except Ben was hungry, he was cold and he was tired of fighting someone else's war. The siege had been going on since June, almost 6 months now and between the low resources and freezing temperatures, Ben wasn't sure if they were going to make it past the winter.

He trudged through the soft, fresh snow, the frigid air biting at his cheeks and nose. He could feel the cold of the gun through the shabby gloves he'd stolen off one of the dead Yankees. At this point, everything the Confederate soldiers got was stolen from the Northerners or given by the people of Petersburg (3). Ben thought the point of keeping Petersburg was to keep supply lines open. If anything, they were just using up resources trying to defend it from the Union. They were fighting a losing battle and for the first time, Ben thought, a losing war.

They came to the spot where the supposed Union raid was going to happen but there's not a single soul in the field. It happens all too quickly, a gun goes off and the man beside Ben goes down in a spray of blood. From the trees, they descend and they're outnumbered 2 to 1 but Ben's squad is prepared and the remaining Union soldiers run off into the trees.

Silence falls once again and Ben is searching through the pockets of one of the soldiers when he finds it. A picture of a dark-haired girl carrying a baby and a letter. Looking at them then down at the man, blood dribbling down the side of his mouth and a shot to the chest, Ben thinks that these men he fights are no different than him. They have people they love and want to protect, they have a heritage they're proud to fight for.

He thinks that he doesn't want to be a killer.

* * *

NOTE: Phew. Lots of history in this. SHOUTOUT to the lovely Lia for those amazing reviews. Thanks so much sweetie!

(1) Yamasee War (1715) -conflict between British settlers of colonial South Carolina and various Native American tribes. Following this war, the remaining Sewee tribe members joined the Catawba tribe. Prior to this, most of the tribe fell prey to alcoholism and foreign diseases.

(2) Trail of Tears (1830) -Result of Andrew Jackson's Indian Removal Act.

(3) Siege of Petersburg (June 1864-March 1865)

I will be going on vacation for the next 2 weeks so I don't know when I'll be able to update because school starts soon after but we're wrapping up this story pretty quickly. From my calculations, there's about 4 or so chapters left but I have some other fics planned. Hope you enjoyed.


	15. Chapter 15

Ben stood abruptly, his blood a simmering gas waiting for the spark that would light it. There it was. The very thing he'd feared ever since this damn war had started. The Union was marching through the South. From Savannah to Atlanta, there was only death and destruction left by the hands of General William Tecumseh Sherman and his men (1). Ben had never hated someone so much in his life. Now, he couldn't even go help defend the city.

Ben grit his teeth, biting off a retort as the General stared at him patiently. He spit out a forced "sir," and turned on his heels to relay the message to his team. Ben had hoped he could return to Charleston, see Tory again, help defend the city should Sherman come marching to their door but no, there was word of another Union front matching northeast of their position and the Confederacy was desperate for some wins. Besides, they couldn't abandon Petersburg. It was a crucial part of their supply line and a tactical stronghold.

He moved through the camp silently, passing by the huddling soldiers gathered around the fires to keep warm. December had brought frigid winds and snow flurries and already some of the men had died of hypothermia throughout the nights partly because they weren't getting enough food to keep their bodies insulated and partly they didn't have adequate winter wear. From across the camp, he could hear the new troops settling down for the night, much more boisterous than Ben's own. He'd almost reached his tent when he heard a voice, a very familiar voice that he hadn't heard in a while.

"Blue!"

Ben turned, trying to keep the incredulity off his face.

"Shelton. Hi," he breathed, having the strangest urge to cry. This, this was having a bit of home with him. A bit of Tory.

Hi, the lovable goof, jumped at him, squishing Ben to his chest tightly.

"I missed your grumpy face, Blue. I really did," he mused and Ben couldn't resist hitting him lightly on the head, just for old time's sake. As different as they were, Ben couldn't help the fondness the smaller boy inspired in him.

"Did you guys just come from Charleston?" Ben asked urgently, moving in to clap Shelton on the shoulder.

"No. We were at Johnsonville (2). Small battle but we are heading there tomorrow. I hear you guys have been stationed here for months," Shelton responded, fixing his spectacles.

Ben ran a hand through his hair, frustration reigniting as he remembered the orders.

"Yes. I wanted to go down to the city, help defend it if Sherman was heading up there but I have orders," he sighs, eyes trying to spot any difference to either. Like him, they're a lot thinner than they were when the war started and Ben can feel a smile tug at the corners of his mouth as he thinks about Tory bossing them into eating like she did with him. Hi looks better or at least, Ben thinks so… his smile is a little less bright but his eyes don't seem as dead as Tory described them.

"Come in, it's freezing out here," Ben shrugs aside one flap of the tent, urging Shelton and Hi. Inside, it's not much warmer but at least they're shielded from the wind. Ben rummages around in his pack, looking for that bottle of whiskey he'd found a while back. He's never been a fan of alcohol but on the worst winter days, the warmth it spreads throughout his body is a welcome one.

They settle down in the cramped little tent, passing the bottle back and forth, trading stories and jokes long after the sun has set. It is only when Hi and Shelton are gearing up to leave for their own tents that Ben gathers the courage to say something.

"Shelton," he blurts it out suddenly, fidgeting nervously under Shelton's gaze.

"Tell her I'm sorry I never wrote," he whispers and it's in the way Hi and Shelton look at each other that tells Ben they've figured it out. When they look back at him, pity in their eyes, Ben has to look away.

* * *

It is official. Tory is going to kill Ben. She's gonna kill him with her b- OH GOD. She is never having kids again. The pain is excruciating and Tory's been in labor for almost 15 hours. Her contractions are getting longer and closer together and oh god, how have women done this all throughout history?! Tory breathes harshly through her nose and mouth, trying to ignore Whitney's fretting at her side.

Lorelei presses a moist towel to her forehead, pulling back the hair from her sweaty face. Before her, Tory's stomach looks like a small balloon, the sides firm and round.

"You're doing great, Tory honey. Oh, this is so exciting! Just remember to push when the time comes," Whitney adds beside her, hands pulling away the towel and patting it over Tory's neck and cheeks.

"Stop... talking," Tory growls, a particularly fierce bout of pain shooting up her back. Lorelei, bless her, is an absolute treasure. She helps position Tory so her back won't take the brunt of the force and keeps her body cool with the moist towels which feel heavenly. Outside the door, Tory can hear Kit pacing around nervously and she wishes her mom were here.

When the actual time comes, Tory is almost positive people in England can hear her screaming. It's unlike any pain Tory has ever felt before and she's crying. She thinks at some point she cries out for her mom or for Ben but all she can remember is the pain. It's as if someone is clawing their way out, ripping her very skin apart. The head comes out first and then after what seems like endless hours of pain, Tory hears the first wail split the air.

Tory thinks she must drift off at some point because when she wakes, the room is dark save for the burning candle at her bedside and the gray December light peeking from behind the curtains. Kit is sprawled in a chair on Tory's right and Whitney is asleep on Tory's other side, the baby between them.

Wrapped lightly in a little blue bundle ( _how fitting_ , she thinks wryly), tiny little fists balled in front of it's face, it looks at her with wide green eyes. Tory's eyes. Tory lifts the bottom of the blanket. Girl. A chubby little girl with Tory's eyes, dark little tufts of hair and the same coppery olive tone that Ben has. Looking at her now, Tory can see it was worth it. All the pain she had to go through these past nine months. It was worth it.

Tory picks up the little bundle gently, terrified that she's going to drop her. Had she ever been so tiny? The baby is a warm weight in her arms, so light yet simultaneously heavy.

"What are you naming her?"

Tory looks over at Kit, who blinks sleepy eyes at her. Looking down at the baby who looks so much like Ben, Tory remembers the first time she met him. The night of her debutante ball after Cooper had ran off into the woods. How proud he was to say his name, a name of mixed heritage and she wants to give the same to her daughter. Their daughter. She looks at Whitney, still asleep, and thinks about her mom. Even if this child wouldn't have her actual grandmother, she was going to grow up loved. By her parents, her grandparents, Ella, Shelton, Hi and their families as well.

"Genevieve," she says quietly, smiling down at her daughter, hoping that one day she'd get the meaning, "Genevieve 'Runs with Wolves'" (3).

* * *

NOTE: A "Back to School" present to you all, the boys are reunited! In all seriousness though, we have 3 chapters left.

(1) William Tecumseh Sherman's infamous "March to the Sea" wherein he marched from Atlanta to Savannah, leaving destruction in his wake. After he destroyed Savannah, he called President Lincoln, offering Savannah as a "gift".

(2) Battle of Johnsonville, fought in Tennessee in November of 1864. Resulted in the capture of 150 Union soldiers.

(3) Genevieve- Of the race of women. Most famous bearer: Saint Genevieve, patron of Paris, believed to have protected the city from Attila the Hun. S/O to stormyskies73 for her baby name suggestions, sorry I did not use any of them.

Hope you guys enjoyed!


	16. Chapter 16

Tory groaned, burrowing her head into the pillow, hands searching the cold bed for a warm body that was not there. Faintly, she could hear Genevieve crying somewhere downstairs, probably with Whitney or Lorelei. Hands failing to find the warmth they seeked, Tory opened her eyes to an empty bed. She stared at the empty spot on the other side of the bed, the one that had become _his._ Rolling over to the middle of the bed, Tory flung out her arms, staring up at ceiling contemplatively.

 _It's different this time,_ she thinks. This time she's not the only person that needs him, the only person waiting for him to return. Tory knew what it was like to grow up without a father and she saw the way some people treated her mother for it. Tory didn't want that for Genevieve. She wanted her daughter to grow up with her parents, grandparents, doting aunts and uncles. Everything Tory never had.

Reaching to the side, Tory grabbed her sketchbook, flipping through pictures of Whitney, Kit, Lorelei, Ella and Genevieve until she came to the page she wanted.

It'd been raining early in the morning that day, dawn still ways off, when Tory had awoken from a nightmare. She no longer dreamed of her mother, instead she dreamed of fire and ash. Beside her, still asleep, lay Ben. It was such a rare occasion when Tory woke before him; usually she'd wake up to him running a hand through her hair or wandering around her bedroom and ever so rarely, softly singing. Tory loved those days best and sometimes, she'd pretend to still be asleep so she could hear him sing but somehow he always knew.

Tory traced the lines of his face on the page, wishing she could run her fingers through the silky soft hair she loved so much and kiss him. When Tory had imagined life in the South prior to living here, she'd never imagined she would have found all this. Lifelong friends, a family, Ben. Genevieve. Tory couldn't imagine life without any of them now.

The sound of voices floated up from the yard below and Tory set aside her sketchbook, wrapping a robe around herself. She ran down the stairs, almost tripping in her haste. She must have been imagining it, there was no way they were here. She stepped through the open doorway, taking in the scene before her. Lorelei was crying, hugging someone much taller than her, their face in her hair. Beside them, looking on wearily with a slight smile on his face, Hi. Tory flung herself at him, heart leaping into her throat as he enveloped her in thin arms.

She laughed joyously, pulling back to run a hand down the prominent cheekbones.

"You're here," she said. He grinned at her, understanding what she really meant to say was "you're alive".

"You can't get rid of me that easily, Brennan," he retorted, swooping down to lift her. She laughed as he squeezed her affectionately, shoving at his shoulders.

"Let me down, Hi! Hi! Linus, tell your son to put me down," Tory shouted, spotting the fast approaching figure. Hi set her down hastily, turning to his father. They seemed to size each other up for a moment before finally moving in to embrace fiercely. Tory watched them happily from the steps until she heard a voice at her side.

"No hug for me?"

Tory laughed, turning to hug Shelton who seemed infinitesimally taller. He had to slouch down to hug her, which amused Tory to no ends.

"I missed you," Tory mused, pulling back and letting Lorelei latch back onto Shelton. Shelton opened his mouth to respond when Whitney and Kit stepped out of the house, Whitney handing Tory a fussy Genevieve as she moved to hug Shelton. Shelton blinked a few times, mouth opening and closing as he took in the appearance of Genevieve, eyes flicking from Tory to Genevieve and back. Tory knows he's made the connection when he lets out a soft "oh".

* * *

Later that night, after Tory has put Genevieve down to sleep and left the window open to hear her if she cries, she sits in the garden with Shelton and Hi. They tell her jokes they heard in the camp, regale her with stories about stunning victories and the like but there's an underlying unspoken theme. They don't talk about how stretched thin supplies are, evident by their loss of weight, or about all those who died fighting or how much of their clothing seems to come from the dead. No. Everything is rose-tinted in their stories and Tory isn't going to be the one to break that illusion.

At one point, Genevieve starts crying and Tory has to go upstairs to get her. When she comes back down, Hi and Shelton are in deep conversation, falling silent when she approaches. They watch her silently as she paces, bouncing Genevieve slightly on her chest.

"Could I... can I carry her?" Hi asks shyly, eyes fixated on Genevieve who pulls on Tory's curls with chubby little fingers. Tory grimaces, leaning down to settle Genevieve in his arms and detangling her fingers from her hair. She instructs him on how to hold Genevieve, laughing when Genevieve decides to drools all over Hi's neck. Hi's face is the epitome of disgust.

"She's so small," Shelton muses, interrupting Hi's chorus of "ew ew ew". When Tory looks over at him, he's looking at Genevieve, face blank. For some reason, it unnerves her.

"Well, she's only a month old," Tory explains, taking Genevieve from the suffering Hi.

"We saw him in camp last month... He said he was sorry he couldn't write to you," Shelton says softly, eyes piercing Tory. Tory bits her lip hard, a wave of relief crashing through her body. She feels tears prick at her eyes. He's alive.

"He doesn't know, does he?" Hi asks, looking as sympathetic as he can while wiping drool off his neck with his shirt.

Tory shakes her head, body curling in around the tiny little body she's holding, hand running down the back of Genevieve's head where the soft dark hair curls at the nape. She feels closer to him when she's with Genevieve and it reminds her of what he said when he took her picture.

 _It's the closest I'll have._

Genevieve, who looks so much like her father, is the closest thing she has to Ben. And that is the moment Tory realizes part of her is expecting that Ben won't make it out this war alive.

The very thought chills her to the bone.

* * *

It is a month later, in the dawn of a cold February day when the news comes. Charleston is being evacuated. The Union soldiers are marching towards the capital of Columbia (1).

Having heard of the destruction spanning Atlanta to Savannah, Kit had paled so suddenly at the news, Tory had been almost positive her father was going to have an aneurysm then and there. Ella had arrived in the afternoon, terrified and dragging a protesting Chance behind her, who firmly advocated they leave the city as soon as possible. That night, the house was filled with shouting as everyone deliberated on whether to evacuate and risk potential death trying to escape or stay and risk potential death anyways when the Union soldiers came marching in.

They were removed enough from the city that there was a possibility the Union soldiers wouldn't leave the city at all but staying meant they'd have no reliable food source for weeks. Ironically enough, leaving didn't guarantee anymore safety and stability than staying. With everyone fleeing the city, looting and violence in general would be at large and while Tory could protect herself and had no doubt in her mind that Lorelei, Ella and Whitney could handle themselves even if they hadn't had the men there, there was Genevieve to consider. Which brought them back to food, safety and stability.

While the others shouted their lungs out downstairs, Tory was trying to calm a wailing Genevieve.

"Please stop crying, baby girl. Don't listen to your crazy family," she soothed, rocking the baby in her arms. Genevieve's little face was a scrunched, red mess with tears and snot, green eyes red and only slightly visible as she cried.

Tory stopped at the window, eyes falling on the dreamcatcher Ben had given her long ago.

"Gen, look. The pretty dreamcatcher," Tory spoke softly, fingers coming up to toy with the soft feathers. The movement caught Genevieve's attention and hiccupping slightly, she looked at the dreamcatcher, cries subsiding. Tory shifted Genevieve's weight onto one arm and grabbed the dreamcatcher, making her way to the bed. Laying Genevieve on her back, she dangled the dreamcatcher above her, watching as tiny little fists reached up and tried to grab them. Tory smiled, feeling a lump rise in her throat. She knew now what people meant when they said something was bittersweet.

Looking down at little tufts of dark hair, familiar green eyes and olive skin, Tory lets out the tears she's been holding in since the night Hi and Shelton returned. The night she realized she was expecting the worst when she should have been hoping for the best.

The tears are hot as they spill over and roll down her cheeks, dripping onto the bedspread. One plops down on Genevieve's forehead and she looks startled for a second, face scrunching again as if about to cry. Tory leans down and kisses her little forehead, dreamcatcher forgotten on the bed as she pulls back and runs a finger down Genevieve's cheek.

"I still have you."

* * *

NOTE: So sorry for the wait (and the shitty chapter). This was mainly a filler because I had to make some major plot changes.

(1) In February 15, 1865, Charleston was evacuated, having been believed to be one of two possible targets by Tecumseh's army. On February 17, 1865, Tecumseh arrived in Columbia, South Carolina, and left what is known today as the "Burning of Columbia".

I have safely returned Hi and Shelton! Hope you guys enjoyed. Again very sorry for the aforementioned things. I promise next 2 chapters will be much better.


	17. Chapter 17

Tory followed Shelton, Hi and Chance down the street, the soles of her boots slapping against the pavement. Kit's pants hung low on her hips and her hair threatened to tumble out of the cap on her head. She hoisted them up and pulled the cap down as a man with a little girl in his arms rushed by.

When they'd decided to stay in Charleston, they knew that their biggest concern was gathering enough food to wait this evacuation out. When the boys volunteered to go out to get food, Tory had insisted on coming along. The ensuing argument had been long and loud but eventually, Whitney had conceded and grudgingly agreed to let Tory could go, only on the condition that she go dressed as a man. It wasn't safe for women to be out and about in the chaos, no matter how many accompaniments she had. Just as well, Tory had no reservations about it. A dress would just slow her down anyways.

They were headed to the Northeastern Railroad depot where it'd been said that the soldiers had stored supplies and weapons. All around her, people were fleeing for their lives. Several explosions had rocked the city, fires erupting all across the city. She could see firefighters running to put out the fires but the flames had gained too much power by then. The air was a smoldering, suffocating thing and the thin, wet rag Tory had covered her face with only helped so much. In a few hours, it would only get worse. A lot of the workshops were set to blow, filled with barrels of cotton and other flammable materials.

Up ahead, she could see the depot teeming with people, some rushing out with handfuls of food and weapons. On the far left, she could see the burning cotton bales. She stopped dead. Up ahead, the boys kept moving towards the depot. Something wasn't right with this picture. The Confederate soldiers had burned every possible resource the city had left, why would they have left a depot full of weapons and supplies? Tory scanned the ground between the depot and the burning cotton bales.

Just as Tory opened her mouth to shout, the line of gunpowder lit up and a deafening explosion reverberated throughout the city. The explosion threw Tory backwards, her back hitting the wall of the building behind her. The last thing she was aware of was the heat of the flames and the screams of burning people (1).

* * *

Ben shivered in the cold air of the communal showers. He felt as if 50 pounds of sweat and mud and dust had sloughed off his body in the last 10 minutes, leaving nothing but skin and bones. Even his hair felt lighter.

Outside, the wind was howling and one of the guards was shouting at another prisoner. Ben closed his eyes, ducking under the spray of the water which felt like a thousand needles piercing his newly sensitized skin. _Better here than out there._

"Blue! Stop daydreaming and get out."

Ben shut off the water, the cold air immediately rushing in to meet him. He shuffled out of the stall and moved to where his clothes were laid out. The guard on watch looked at him with barely concealed disdain, eyes tracking his every move. He'd been watching Ben from the moment they'd arrived at Camp Douglas a few days ago from Hatcher's Run (which in and of itself had been a mess). Ben still couldn't reason as to why that team was so far removed from the main platoon.

 _They were losing ground. The Union soldiers had reformed to the North and were regaining most of the Union lines that the Confederacy had collapsed only the day before (2)._

 _Ben's squad was holding down the line east of the mill when they were ambushed._

 _The squad was lounging around, only Ben patrolling the area around and Ashoka, who had climbed the trees for a better vantage point. They all heard the crack of a gunshot and the echoing scream that died in the soldier's throat. They came from the North, a small troop moving forward with no fear, shooting bullet after bullet. They shot to immobilize, making sure retaliation was a far off concept. Ben dove behind the tree, the bullet whistling past his ear._

 _The clearing fell silent for a second and then- THUD. Screams and yells started up but not from anyone on Ben's side. When Ben peeked around the tree, Ashoka was in the middle of the Union squad, slashing through the soldiers with a sort of glee._

 _Ben cursed in his head and moved from the base of the tree, shooting down those who tried to close in on Ashoka. Ben didn't register being hit until he saw the world darken as he fell to his knees. He was struggling to clear his vision when he heard someone shout his name and then someone hit him on the back of the head again and the last thing he was aware of was someone shouting his name._

* * *

Tory awoke to the sounds of rummaging. Careful not to alert the person nearby, she cracked open an eye. Someone was looking through Hi's bag. The boys were still unconscious from the blast and in the background, Tory could see the depot burning but she could no longer hear the screams of burning people.

Casting that thought aside, she cast her eyes around for something she could use and found a shotgun lying almost within reach of her. Keeping on eye on the man, Tory stretched out a bloody hand to the gun, dragging it quietly towards her. Standing up, she discovered that her hair had fallen out of its cap and the right side of her temple had a gash.

Stepping behind the man, Tory brought the gun up to the back of the man's head, fingering the trigger like Kit had taught her.

"Move away from the bag or I shoot," she threatened. The man seemed to tremble in fear until he turned around, that was. His eyes widened as he caught sight of her hair and her attire.

"This ain't a place for a lady, miss," he leered, grinning a scraggly gap-toothed grin. He moved so suddenly, lunging for the gun, the weight of him brought her down. He threw a punch at the side of her jaw and scrambling to throw him off, Tory headbutted him. Once on top, she brought the butt of her gun up and smashed it down into the side of his face. The man slumped over like a bag of potatoes.

"I'm not a lady," she replied sagely to his supine form, spitting blood onto the floor. Dropping the gun to her side, she shook Hi and the others awake, keeping an eye out for any other unfriendly characters.

When Hi caught sight of the man, he winked at her and Tory smiled shyly, split lip aching. For a moment, she wished it could always be like this. Just her and her boys going off on adventures. And then she saw all of Charleston engulfed in flames and those dreams too burned up into ashes.

* * *

NOTE: Ahhh dont hate me. I know its been a long time and for that I apologize. This month has been deadline after deadline for college applications and just schoolwork in general but now I'm done with that and this fic only has 1 more chapter left! Or does it? ㈴0

1) HISTORY TIME YAY! When it was eventually decided that Charleston would be evacuated, the soldiers set fires to warehouses filled with cotton bales, blew up the railroad into town (unknowingly killing the civilians that had rushed in to look for provisions)

(2) Battle of Hatcher's Run, fought February 5-7th in Virginia. Now there are no reported captured Confederate soldiers from this battle but I really wanted to incorporate the Civil War POW camps because they played such a big role. Its estimated that as many as 464,000 Confederates were captured (many in the final days) and 215,000 imprisoned. Almost 26,000 Confederate prisoners died in captivity which translates to about 12% of the captives. Camp Douglas was notorious amongst Union POW camps with a death rate of 17-23%, many say it was the "Andersonville" (Confederate POW camp) of the North.

Yussss badass bby Tor. I will see you lovely people soon and next chapter, I'll make sure to tell you what I'm working on now. Thank you to all who favorited, reviewed and followed. I'll make sure to shout you out. Hope you enjoyed. Au revoir!


	18. Chapter 18

In April, the war ends.

It's been a difficult past few months. The constant threat of Union soldiers and fleeing survivors alike, their perpetually low stock of food and the close quarters has put everyone in foul moods. Fights and arguments had broken out between them more often than Tory would like to admit but somehow, they made it. The world they knew had ended but they'd survived.

Charleston is a ghost town, burned to the ground, it's people long gone or dead, the Union soldiers patrolling it ghostly sentinels. Objectively, Tory knows this will not be the end of it, the South will not back down so easily, but part of her feels a vicious sense of triumph. The rest of her just feels empty, torn at the edges. So much fighting, so much pain and loss and death. For what?

Tory grit her teeth, keeping one eye on the bottle sitting atop the boulder across the clearing. Her finger danced over the the trigger of the gun, the metal cold in her hands. Letting out a breath, she squeezed the trigger, the gun bucking in her hands. Across the clearing, the bullet hit the bottle, the glass shattering into little pieces. The pieces glittered in the grass, reflecting off the sunlight.

Behind her, Shelton whistled.

"You're better than some of the men on the actual field," he commented, giving her a twisted smile. Tory grimaced, not wanting to think about the war. She looked towards Charleston where she knew the Union soldiers now controlled the city.

"What do you think is going to happen now?" Tory asks. To Charleston? To us?

Shelton remained silent behind her. Tory took the silence for what it meant; uncertainty. Swallowing down the fear that lodged itself in her throat, Tory picked up three new bottles and walked across the clearing to set them in a row on the boulder. Her eyes danced to the edge of the treeline where she knew that farther down the path was the cabin she had found. Their cabin. She turned away, picking up the gun and firing off 3 rounds.

The first two bottles shatter but the third bullet misses, hitting the trunk of a tree behind it, wood chips flying off. Shelton takes the gun from her gently, looking at her with shrewd eyes. Tory stands still, staring across the clearing at the single bottle, her nails digging into the palm of her hands.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks, fixing his glasses.

"There's nothing to talk about," Tory responds quietly, her eyes flicking over to Shelton. She takes his arm, starting the walk back to the house. Resting her head on his shoulder, she feels a rush of affection for him.

"I used to think that coming to Charleston was the worst thing that ever happened to me…" Tory began, hesitantly. "But I wouldn't change it now. Not for anything in the world."

Shelton smiles a small smile, the corners of his eyes creasing into laugh lines. She had lost her mother but here, in Charleston, she had gained a whole new family. In the Devers, in the Stolowitskis, in Whitney and Kit, in Ella and Chance, in Genevieve and Ben. She thought of her first meeting with Whitney, with Ben. How strange to look back on those memories now and know just how important they'd become to her despite their rocky starts.

They were approaching the house when they heard screaming. Looking at each other, Shelton and Tory broke into a run. They reached the back door, finding it wide open, Whitney standing in the middle of kitchen opposite a dark-skinned woman dressed in dirty rags.

Shelton hesitated in bringing the gun up, the woman didn't seem to pose any real threat. Even so, Tory hurried to Whitney's side. From the door leading to the living room, Hi appeared, bewildered.

"I'm sorry, miss. I just wanted to ask you fo' sum food..." the woman spoke in a heavy accent, her voice placating. She stepped forward, her hands raised in supplication. A freed slave, Tory thought sadly. They had heard accounts of many slaves leaving behind their old masters and traveling to the North or around the South, searching for family, just the clothes on their back.

Tory got a good look at the woman, at the way her cheeks jutted out and how her eyes looked sunken with the dark bags underneath. Her clothes were dirty and threadbare, her hands bony and nails caked with dirt. Beside her, Whitney moved towards the woman slowly as if she were a deer that could easily startle. She grabbed the woman's hand, speaking to her quietly.

"I'm sorry I screamed, you took me by surprise. What is your name, if I may ask? Where are you going? How much food do you think you'll need?" Whitney asked her, the woman before her staring at her blankly.

"Abigail, miss. I'm trynna find my momma, she was sold to some folks up in Virginia. Anything you can spare will sure be 'ppreciated."

"Is there anything else I can get you? Would you like to shower? Tory can find you some new clothes while I pack up some food for you," Whitney offered. Tory was struck once again by just how kind Whitney was. Abigail looked at Whitney wide-eyed for a moment, eyes welling with tears.

"Tha lord bless yo' soul, miss," Abigail choked out, voice full of emotions. Whitney turned to Tory.

"Tory dear, go draw Abigail a bath and find her something to wear," Whitney said. Tory nodded, moving past a still Hi. At the top of the stairs, she found Ella pacing nervously. Noticing Tory coming up the stairs, Ella sped down the first few steps, grabbing onto Tory's hands.

"I heard screaming but I didn't know if it was safe to come down and I didn't want to leave Lorelei alone with Genevieve. What happened? Was it vagabonds? Is Whitney okay?" Ella asked hurriedly, eyes intense.

"Breathe, El. One of the freed slaves came around asking for some food and scared Whitney," Tory explained, moving past Ella. Ella seemed to deflate almost immediately, letting out a breath of relief. "Can you find her something to wear while I draw a bath?"

Ella nodded and set off in the direction of Tory's room, knocking on the door and letting Lorelei know there was no danger. Lorelei opened the door, Genevieve at her hip. Something unclenched inside Tory at the sight of her daughter.

Tory took the bucket they used to haul the water downstairs, Hi helping her bring it up when she filled it. While Abigail was bathing, Tory went to go find Ella. When she stepped into her room, Ella turned to her with one of Tory's dresses in her hand. It was plain to say the least but the fabric and the general color of the dress screamed 'money'.

Crossing the room, Tory took Genevieve from Lorelei, her warm and heavy weight a comfort.

"Not that dress," Tory said. Ella looked at her in askance.

"She's a freed slave, El, traveling on her own. There's people out there who aren't going to like the fact she's even walking around free. If they see her with a dress like that, they're going to think she stole it or something. She can't afford any more attention," Tory explained, swallowing down the disgust rising within her. She wasn't oblivious to some of the more dehumanizing parts of the war, she had heard about the trials and it wasn't a secret that even prior to the war, female slaves had been the objects of sexual pursuit by slaveholders (1).

Ella seemed to understand what she meant, her eyes turning an icy shade of mossy green gray. She turned her back on Tory, rummaging through other dresses. She pulled out a simple off-white dress with long sleeves and a high neckline that Tory remembered from her pregnancy days. It would fit big on Abigail but it was probably the most unassuming dress Tory had.

The men returned before Abigail got back on the road so Linus and Nelson offer to escort her up to Virginia, putting Tory's- and Ella's- fears at ease. Watching Abigail thank Whitney tearily made Tory's heart swell with emotion and she fervently hopes that Abigail finds her family, wherever they may be. The trio sets off several hours before dusk while the rest of them gather in the living room per Ella's request. At first, everything is quiet while Ella and Chance struggle to find the words.

Ella looks up suddenly, her eyes catching Tory's. She glances up at Chance who nods down at her, dark blue eyes solemn.

"Chance and I were thinking about… leaving Charleston for a while," Ella said hesitantly, looking around the room. "There's nothing in Charleston for us anymore and with the new act passed, we could even go west and easily get new land (2). You should come with us."

She aims the last part directly at Tory, her eyes pleading. Tory hesitates for a moment because part of her wanted to forget all that happened here. She didn't want Genevieve growing up in the shadow of war, the shadow of a burned city full of ghosts. But she couldn't leave. She knew the chances were slim but if… if Ben was alive, he would come back here.

Tory gave Ella a tight lipped smile, shaking her head softly and Ella nodded in understanding. Lorelei and Shelton looked at each other, having a silent conversation between themselves. Lorelei's eyes flicked to Whitney who sat with Genevieve in her arms, fingers brushing the soft downy black hair. Shelton shared a look with Hi.

"Charleston is our home, no matter how damaged it may be," Shelton said. Lorelei smiled, laying a hand on her son's shoulder.

"Well, someone needs to keep Devers out of trouble," Hi joked and Shelton snorted, giving Hi an incredulous look.

"What will you do with the Manor?" Kit asked Chance. Chance grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I don't think I can sell it, it's the family home. Until we return, I was going to sign the property over to you," Chance replied, flushing a bit in the face of Kit's astonishment.

"When will you come back?" Tory asks, already dreading the long months when Ella wouldn't be around.

"We don't know yet but you better write me everyday or so help me, Victoria," Ella trailed off menacingly, pointing an accusatory finger at Tory. Tory rolled her eyes, smiling nonetheless. Standing up, she hugged Ella tightly.

* * *

 _2 months later_

Tory stepped back from Ella's warm embrace, wanting to keep her there forever.

"I'm going to miss you, El."

Ella gave her a warm smile, reaching out to take Tory's hand.

"I'm going to miss you too," she mused, her eyes suspiciously wet. She leaned around Tory, catching sight of Genevieve in Lorelei's arms. "And I'm definitely going to miss this beautiful girl."

Ella pressed a kiss to Genevieve's forehead, Genevieve immediately grabbing onto Ella's hair. Tory laughed as Ella tried to pull her hair out of the grasp of chubby little fingers.

"El, we have to go," Chance said from behind Tory, head poking out from the open door of the carriage. Tory turned, giving him a smile and a wave of her hand. Ella stepped back, a vision in her green dress. She stepped into the carriage, looking back at Tory. She smiled warmly and then the door to the carriage closed, the curtains falling shut.

Tory watches the carriage until it disappears into the treeline. She turned to go back into the house, taking a babbling Genevieve from Lorelei. She'd grown so much in the past few months, she responded to her own name more often than not and she seemed to know who was who. In that moment, Coop comes running out of the house to stand at Tory's feet, Genevieve looking down at him, entranced by the wolf dog. She points a chubby finger at him, looking up at Tory and babbling incoherently. Tory hums in response.

She climbed the stairs of the porch, following Lorelei into the kitchen and sitting down at the last available seat. She settles Genevieve on her lap, smoothing down her unruly curls and pressing a kiss onto her forehead as Genevieve fiddles with her necklace. Children were such curious creatures.

Whitney hands her a bowl of mashed potatoes and Tory resettles Genevieve on her lap, not wanting a repeat of last time. Genevieve could sit well enough on her own now, had even begun crawling, but occasionally she lost interest in just sitting and threw herself back. As if knowing Tory was thinking of her, Genevieve looked up at her in that moment with familiar green eyes. She looked more and more like Ben everyday, dark skin and dark hair. Minus the eyes. Those were all Tory's.

At that moment, Hi and Shelton came into the kitchen, arguing about something.

"...he's giving amnesty to all Confederate rebels except those holding property valued at $20,000," Shelton was saying (3).

"I'm telling you, they're not going to leave any of the Southern leaders in charge. Not with the people calling for blood," Hi responded, shaking his head in kind. Next to him, Shelton muttered darkly under his breath.

Tory looked between them, absent-mindedly feeding Genevieve a spoonful of mashed potatoes. She had heard about the new proclamations enacted by President Johnson but not much. Sometimes it still shocked her to remember President Lincoln's assassination, it had happened only days after the war had ended. Even now, peace was still fragile, the Confederacy in a sort of political limbo. Not quite integrated back into the Union yet not fully separate from it either.

"Dadadada," Genevieve babbled, pointing at Shelton, breaking the moment. Tory smiled. Hi and Shelton doted on Genevieve ceaselessly,they all did really but Genevieve seemed to have taken a liking to Shelton most of all, probably because she liked snatching his glasses and watching him get frustrated.

She finished feeding Genevieve and handed her off to Kit who was banned from his lab until further notice because Whitney was concerned he wasn't getting enough sun, something that amused Tory to no ends. After lunch, Tory slips away from the house, having left Genevieve and Kit asleep and the others drinking tea in the kitchen.

She heads into the treeline, past the clearing with the boulder and further down the path. The flowers are in full bloom, an explosion of colors that remind her of the day she found Coop all those years ago.

The cabin was in the exact condition they had left it in a year ago, everything covered in dust, from the unmade bed to the bedside table to the rickety rocking chair in the corner. She hadn't been here since he'd left partly because of Genevieve and partly because this was their place, coming back alone felt wrong. But today she'd felt the overwhelming urge to come here. She doesn't know why she's here though so she sits with her back to the door and she starts thinking of everything she has to do, of things she's heard and seen. She wonders what the future holds in store for her, when Ella will be back, whether Abigail found her family or not. She sits there for an hour and she thinks about everything and everyone that isn't him but it's useless because like a ghost, he lingers in the darkest and deepest recesses of her mind. Afterwards, she's walking back to the house, fingers trailing through the soft petals of the roses blooming in the bushes when Whisper crosses her path.

The she-wolf pauses in her tracks, acknowledging Tory with a cock of her head. She watches Tory for a moment and then strolls away silently. Tory hasn't seen Whisper since the day she'd first met Ben four years ago although she's sure that her den is nearby and that's where Coop disappears to every so often.

Tory continues towards the house, lost in her thoughts when she hears Hi whooping and yelling. She enters the house through the kitchen back door, finding the door to Kit's lab wide open and a teacup lying on it's side, tea spilling over the side of the table. Brows furrowing, Tory follows the voices to the front door. Did Ella and Chance come back or something?

She shakes her head, Ella had sent her a letter a few days ago. She would have told her if she were coming back. The front door is open, Hi's voice floating in.

Hi falls silent as she steps through and it takes a moment to register that everyone is looking at her. Lorelei and Kit are closest to her and then her eyes find Shelton and Hi, who is practically vibrating with joy, Ben at their side. An ache so fierce pierces her chest, she's almost certain that if she looks down, she'll find herself impaled.

He's here. He's alive.

Tory bunches up her skirt in her hand, stepping down the stairs slowly. The moment feels fragile and any sudden movement will shatter it. She's aware that everyone is looking at her but she only has eyes for him. She comes to a stop before him, her heart beating an erratic tattoo against her rib-cage. She feels her breath come and go shallowly as she stares up at him.

"I told you I'd be back," he says and just like that, she's crushing herself to him, reveling in the feel of his arms around her waist. He buries his face in her neck, the relief running through his body tremulously.

"I am never leaving you again," he whispers into her hair, voice thick with melancholy. "And if I do, you can actually kill me."

Tory lets out a strangled sort of sob, the realization knocking out the strength in her legs. She hasn't seen him in a year and it's just hitting her that this is it. He's made it. The war is over and there is nothing keeping them apart.

"Oh," someone breathes behind her. Tory extracts herself from Ben's grip, looking behind her to where Whitney is holding Genevieve in her arms. Tory looks up at Ben who looks half terrified and crosses over to Whitney, taking Genevieve from her arms. Whitney gives her an encouraging smile, knowing how much this moment means to Tory. Steeling herself, Tory hesitantly steps back towards Ben, holding Genevieve close to her chest as if her mere presence is a shield that can protect Tory from whatever may happen next.

Tory looks at Ben who stares back at her, eyes flicking from Genevieve to Tory and back. His face is blank but his eyes are a maelstrom of emotions.

"Ben… I want you to meet Genevieve, my daughter… your daughter," Tory says cautiously, watching his face for any indication that he's about to bolt. In her arms, Genevieve turns her head towards Ben, green eyes peering up at him earnestly. She leaned forward, chubby finger pointing.

"Da!" she said suddenly, jumping in Tory's arms. Ben reaches up hesitantly, brushing his hand against Genevieve's curls. Genevieve watches him curiously and then she reaches for him, chubby arms stretching. Tory passes her to him and for the first time ever, Tory sees them together and something within her clicks into place. Her heart melts as she watches the gentle way in which he brushes his finger against Genevieve's cheeks and how he disentangles her chubby fingers from his hair because of course, she's latched on to it by now. He looks at Tory with eyes that glimmer with tears and he holds a hand out to her. Tory takes it, tucking herself against his right side. She closes her eyes, taking in the familiar scent of spices and it's enough to make her cry. She sends a silent thank you to whatever deity is out there.

Thank you. Thank you for bringing him back to me.

She knows this is only the beginning, he's been through a lot during the war, they all have. The South won't give up it's way of life so easily. The Union won't grant them reprieve. But for right now, all she cares about is the fact that is standing next to her. Solid. Warm. Alive.

Someone coughs and she opens her eyes to find Hi and Shelton at them grinning in an almost eerily similar manner, Lorelei smirking herself. Whitney is crying quietly and Kit is eyeballing Ben suspiciously.

"So Mr. Blue, what are your intentions with my daughter?" he asks seriously.

Tory can't help it. She laughs.

* * *

12 years later

She watches her from across the flames, watching as one of the other girls braids her long dark hair. She'd been worried about how this trip would affect Genevieve, having grown up isolated from this part of her heritage, but the other children in the tribe had taken her in kind. Myra adored her granddaughter and she certainly was kind enough to Tory so Tory was counting this trip as a definite success. Still, she couldn't help but worry.

"Relax, ahyoka. She is fine, you worry too much," Ben murmured in her ear, only faintly audible over the man speaking. Tory turned her face toward Ben's, closing her eyes when he nuzzled her cheek, laying a kiss there. Twelve years and it still hadn't gotten old.

"Because you're so carefree about letting her do anything, right?" Tory snipped back. Ben gave her a look that spoke of exasperation. Tory bit back a smirk.

She turned back to what the man, Tory couldn't remember his name, was saying.

"He said "Hear me, my chiefs! I am tired, my heart is sick and sad."

A deep sadness came over Tory as she remembered the days of the war. How fitting a line, she thinks as she reaches for Ben's hand. Their fight was over now, as it always would be every day hence.

"From where the sun now stands, I will fight no more forever."

* * *

NOTE: Merry Christmas lovelies! Very sorry for the long wait. All my energy in November went to my NaNoWriMo Bluenan project, you guys are going to love it. Here is the final chapter of FWTSNS :( I am so proud of this fic. It was my first attempt at Historical AU and reading back on some of the parts, I got so emotional because I put so much effort into this and I think it really showed but this fic wouldn't be anything without all of you so thank you for all the reviews, the comments, the views. You don't know how happy it made me every time I saw an AO3 or FF notification on my email. Onto the facts!

(1) Rape during the Civil War was one of the most overlooked crimes despite hundreds of cases being reported. Coincidentally, during this time period, one of the first documentations that influenced modern humanitarian laws in warfare was issued. The Lieber Code of 1863 set standards for how soldiers should act, one of these such standards was the prohibition of rape.

(2) Homestead Act of 1862 transferred 270 million acres of public land to private individuals. One requirement for the land was proof that the individual in question had never taken up arms against the United States. Eventually repealed in 1976 (1986 for Alaska).

(3) President Johnson's first two proclamations recognized the Virginia government led by Francis Pierpont and the other granted amnesty to all ex-rebels except those with property valued above 20k, also appointed a temporary governor for North Carolina.

I will be posting a timeline for this fic in a few days to make it easier to follow the timeline. I hope you all enjoyed!


	19. Timeline

_**Timeline**_

 _ **1860**_

 **December 1860-** South Carolina secedes from the Union

 _ **1861**_

 **April 1861-** 18-year old Tory arrives in Charleston

 **August 1861-** Day of Tory's cotillion; first meeting with Ella, Jason, Chance and Ben

 **December 11, 1861-** Fire burns down Congressional Circular Church and over 600 buildings in Charleston

 _ **1862**_

 **January 1862-** Hi and Shelton leave to join the Confederacy following Ruth's funeral

 **February 1862-** Ben and Tory's first kiss (EEEEEEEEP)

 **June 1862** \- Battle at Secessionville

 **August 1862-** Battle of Bull Run/ Second Manassas

 **September 1862-** Battle of Antietam

 _ **1863**_

 **April 1863-** Ella and Chance's wedding, Ben returns from the battlefield

 **September 1863-** Fort Wagner on Morris Island abandoned

 _ **1864**_

 **April 1864-** Confederate soldiers move back out of Charleston

 **June 1864-** Battle of Petersburg starts

 **December 1864-** Sherman's March to Sea ends at Savannah; Ben reunites with Shelton and Hi; Genevieve is born

 _ **1865**_

 **January 1865-** Shelton and Hi return to Charleston

 **February 1865-** Charleston is evacuated; Northeastern Railroad at Charleston explodes, killing civilians, and a fire destroys much of what is left of the city; Union army strikes at Columbia; Battle of Hatcher's Run where Ben gets captured

 **April 1865-** War ends; President Lincoln is assassinated

 **May 1865-** President Johnson's first proclamations are issued

 **June 1865-** Ella and Chance leave; Ben returns from Camp Douglas

 _ **1877**_

 **October 1877-** Chief Joseph of the Nez Perce delivers surrender speech at Bears Paw Battle; Tory, Ben and Genevieve in Native American reservation camp

* * *

 **NOTE:** We have officially reached the end of FWTSNS :(

There's so much I wish I could have changed about this fic but in the end, I'm happy with the end result. Writing this was such a pleasure and I'm going to miss writing for it so much but here's to moving on to bigger and better things. As of right now, I have 3-4 major Bluenan fics planned, one of which is partially written so you'll see that in a month or two depending on how busy I am.

Lastly, I want to give a HUGEEEEE shout-out to WiccaChick98 for the beautiful review. It made me cry and waking up to that email honestly made my entire day so thank you. Truly. To the rest of you as well, thank you. I'm so glad you guys enjoyed. Until next time :)


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